


Undeniable Attraction

by SaraWinters



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling, Twilight - Meyer
Genre: 10000-30000 words, Cheating, Closeted Character, Crack, Crossover, Friends With Benefits, Hate Sex, Humor, Mary Sue, Masturbating, Multi, Parody, Squick, Stalker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-10
Updated: 2010-04-07
Packaged: 2017-10-07 21:17:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 24,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/69332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaraWinters/pseuds/SaraWinters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the years since he first married Bella, a lot had changed in Edward Cullen's life. Little did he know how much life would change once his family moved to Scotland.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Family and Sacrifice

Edward was brooding. This was not an unusual state for him, despite his three year marriage to the most wonderful girl in the world. But today's brooding was special. He'd made the mistake—no, he'd been afforded the privilege, he reminded himself—of letting Bella choose where they would live next. She'd chosen a remote village in Scotland. The rumor was, there was a school for witchcraft nearby that normal humans couldn't see. Bella found the entire situation quaint and insisted they all make the place their home. They, meaning himself and Bella, their daughter and Jacob, who was still waiting impatiently for Renesmee to be old enough for him to marry. Or rip apart. Edward still wasn't convinced the shapeshifter wouldn't eventually kill their daughter. He'd thought of it once or twice. No matter. Edward would kill him first, even if he had to get around Bella's protection to do it. She couldn't shield him _all_ the time.

That was what had finally driven Carlisle and the others away from them. Rosalie said she was sick of hearing Bella and Edward constantly having sex (she really had never gotten over her jealousy), but Alice had confessed to Bella the final straw was the resumed fighting between Edward and Jacob. She'd had a vision of Edward attempting a mind meld he'd seen on a TV show somewhere and Bella had taken to protecting Jacob every waking minute afterwards. Now she was looking for a change of scenery and insisted Jacob come with them. The only change in the scenery Edward wanted was the other man's blood bursting from his throat. Animals were delicious, after all.

Not that he'd ever take a bite out of him or any other pseudo-human. That was more trouble than he needed. He had enough issues trying to raise a daughter who was more impossibly beautiful and perfect than he and Bella put together. Renesmee had decided to try learning a new language every week and took delight in talking to people around the world on the internet to test her skills. Jacob usually spent these times sitting at her feet, painting her toenails (there were about half a dozen coats now and he was starting to paint polka dots and stripes for variety) while Edward contemplated having sex with Bella. She never liked to do it when Jacob was around, which was all the time now that the others were gone. Edward was becoming so desperate, he considered asking Jacob to watch so Bella could force herself to get more comfortable. Of course, she might be too comfortable with that which would only ignite the fighting again.

It was a no-win situation. The blood lust he felt when Jacob was around was the only feeling Edward would ever know between them. That was all that was possible, he was sure of it. He just got so worked up setting eyes on the hulking younger man, staring deep into those dark eyes was an exercise in supreme self-control. Even attempting civil conversation made Edward want to jump Jacob and wrestle him to the ground, finally proving which of them was the dominant male. Though his romantic nature was the initial draw between them, Edward felt Bella was pulled towards Jacob's animalistic dominance. She once confessed to Alice (who should never have thought over the information in Edward's presence) that she sometimes fantasized about being dominated. The only response Edward had for that was to compose a song that he felt would let him control her heart. She listened to it, tossed the disc onto the towering stack of CDs he'd composed that week and pronounced the song "lovely" before going to watch Jacob and Renesmee play outside.

It was then Edward knew he would always hate Jacob for being what he couldn't. If he hadn't been dying when Carlisle had turned him, he might have eventually had long legs and sinewy muscles all over too. He might have even lived long enough to grow lush body hair; he assumed that's what his daughter and wife found attractive. There wasn't much more to Jacob than being an overgrown plaything for Renesmee and a formerly lovesick archetype for Bella. Or so Edward had convinced himself over the years. He didn't know what he would do if there was more to it.

Jacob was still on his mind when Bella burst into the room, licking her lips. She smelled like a fresh kill.

"What are you doing?" she asked as she crossed the room.

"Just thinking." Edward reached for Bella as she got close to him. She frowned and instead planted herself on the window seat.

"You really should try again," Bella said.

"Try what?" He didn't have to ask. Edward knew without reading her mind. Bella was back to asking the impossible. His frown deepened. He turned to the window. Jacob was sunbathing outside. His jeans were so tight, Edward was surprised he hadn't split the seams yet. He needed yet another pair.

"You know very well what," she responded. "You and Jake can get along. You just have to put in the effort."

"Maybe if he stopped baring his teeth at me every time I look at you," Edward muttered.

"He does not," Bella said. "He hasn't done that in years, not over me anyway. He loves Renessme."

"As do we all," Edward responded. _Though not in the twisted way Jacob does._ "She is the only reason I'm allowing him to come with us." He turned to his wife. "Are you sure about Scotland?"

"It'll be fantastic," Bella said. "The weather will be perfect and, besides that, the only humans we'll see will be witches and wizards. They won't try to kill us. I think there's a forest around that school I told you about where we can hunt."

"And you don't think people will mind us being near the students?" Edward asked.

"They won't even know we're there," Bella said. "It's perfect."

Perfect would be turning their little shapeshifter problem into a wolf rug for the hearth, but Edward wasn't going to tell Bella that. She had her heart set on moving to Hogsmeade. For her sake, he was going to try to make it work.


	2. Tension Relief

There wasn't much to be said for trying to make their situation work. Over the next several days, Edward found himself nearly at Jacob's throat every time he spoke. For every inane comment about the beauty of the sunrise, how much he would miss the reservation or what it would be like to leave the place he grew up, Edward grew more and more livid. One day he snapped and told Jacob if he was going to be so homesick, he could swim back across the ocean at any time. No one would miss him. The shapeshifter crossed the room in a swift jump, his lips parted as he closed in on Edward. Edward caught him by the neck, attempted to sink his fingers into the other man's neck and then froze. Bella had entered the room. When she narrowed her eyes, a bubble formed between them, eventually forcing the two excited males apart.

"Are we done with the silliness now?" Renesmee had appeared next to her mother, matching her frown with one of her own. Edward frowned down at her. She looked like a teenager now and was developing the attitude to match. Still, he couldn't blame her for stepping in as well. She loved both of them in the same way her mother did—she acted like she wanted them to get along, but secretly delighted when they fought over her. It was a wicked game, but Edward knew that being a tease was the main trait Renesmee had inherited from her mother. That, and being so beautiful he could just eat her up. In a totally paternal way, of course.

One person wasn't inspiring particularly fatherly feelings just then. The moment Bella had separated them, Jacob crouched on the floor, feigning injury from the brief moments Edward had touched him. As if he had hurt that thick, bulging neck. Edward doubted he could really hurt him with one hand that quickly, even if he tried. Oh, how he longed to try. Just the thought of wrapping his hands around Jacob's neck, watching those lips part as he gasped in surprise, feeling the thunder of Jacob's pulse racing beneath his hands as he squeezed—Edward practically moaned at the thought. Instead, he frowned as his focus returned to the sob story Jacob was pushing on Bella and Nessie.

"If your father could be a little more sensitive, we wouldn't have these problems," Jacob finished. Renesmee immediately enveloped him in a hug. Jacob smirked at Edward over her shoulder; his smile widened when Bella moved to hug him too. His hand began to slip down both their backs, his eyes never leaving Edward's as he embraced the girls.

Edward bared his teeth. He really was going to kill him.

At that moment, Bella turned to her husband, knocking Jacob's hand from their daughter's back as she moved. "At your age, I would have thought you'd have grown up a long time ago."

"What?"

Renesmee frowned at her father. "You have to stop picking fights with him," she said. "We won't put up with it anymore." With that, she grabbed Jacob's hand and dragged him outside.

Bella crossed her arms and stared at her husband. It was times like these, Edward was glad he couldn't read her mind. Her expression and body language were enough. He would remain celibate for at least another six months. It was a good thing his hands never got tired. Also that he could move quickly and silently, but that was beside the point. This rivalry could destroy his marriage if something didn't give. But Edward would be damned if he'd be the one to break the tension with Jacob.

"This better be over by the time we move," Bella said. "Nessie's right. We won't put up with it." Edward reached out for her, but Bella turned away, joining their daughter and Jacob outside. Edward turned to go upstairs. He had to relieve his tension and he didn't have Jacob in his hands to give him that.  


* * *

  
_I don't care if he hates me_, Jacob thought. _I can never forgive him for what he did to the perfection that was Bella_. Though, now that he thought of it, she was more beautiful as a vampire who would never age. Motherhood had done nothing to mar her perfection. And, of course, their cursed union had brought Jacob the future love of his life, as soon as she was old enough that the situation wouldn't be icky. Jacob caught Bella's eyes as she came out of the house; he frowned. Sometimes when she looked at him, he wondered if she had developed her husband's unnatural ability to read minds. She was wonderful in many ways, but this was impossible. She'd just carried her ability to look into his heart from her human to her vampire form. It was a waste, really.

"You have to try again," Bella pleaded. Her voice oozed over him like warm honey, albeit less sticky. Struggling, Jacob shook his head and looked away from her compelling eyes. "You promised, Jake."

"Edward and I will always hate each other, Bella," he said. Jacob sighed. "Renesmee accepts that, why can't you?"

"Because I love both of you," she said. She stepped closer and placed a hand on his shoulder.

He shivered, not because he could feel the coldness coming from her very core, but because she'd said that word again. Love. He still wondered if it was possible for someone who wasn't human anymore to feel anything but obsession and thirst. At least Renesmee was part human, something Bella could never claim again.

"If you love both of us," Jacob began. _Sleep with me or both of us_, he thought. _That would certainly ease the tension._ A movement caught the edge of his vision and he spotted Edward in the window, frowning down at them. He'd probably heard what Jacob was thinking. Or not. After all, it was his usual expression. "If you love us both, accept our feelings for what they are. We get along because of you."

"You usually don't want to kill each other because of me," Bella corrected.

"After what happened with the Volturi, you still think we want to kill each other?" Jacob asked.

"After what I walked in on, yes," Bella answered. "I think you've been plotting against each other for a while and it has to stop."

"If I was plotting against Edward, I would have found a way to kill him long before now," Jacob responded. "We helped your kind, remember? In return, we came to an agreement that is against all our natures."

"Technically, it's not. You're not really a werewolf," Bella reminded him.

Of course she was right about that. He and the rest of his tribe shouldn't be able to fight vampires at all, let alone rip them apart as easily as they had. The legends were vague in some respects, but the vampires assured them that not being real werewolves only meant they didn't _have_ to kill each other, not that they couldn't. Jacob felt the entire thing was based on semantics. Werewolves could and should kill vampires, shapeshifters who took the shape of wolves could kill vampires, but could also choose to live in peace with them and eventually marry one who was half their kind. It was like something the imaginative child Bella had been would've made up to make them all friends in the end. Unfortunately, it had not worked out that way. The rest of the wolves had gone back to their normal lives after the threat was gone and they'd lost respect for the lovelorn Jacob. After that, he'd been more or less adopted by the Cullens—according to Edward, he'd become the family pet.

That brought to mind visions of Edward dragging him around by a leash. The image wasn't wholly horrible. At least it would be more civil than his usual murderous urges.

"I don't know what to say, Bella. I can't force him to like me and I'm not going to pretend to like him." Jacob pouted. Edward glared down at them from the window before moving out of sight. They never had to get along, even if they lived together until Renesmee was old enough to leave. At this rate, they would be rid of each other within a couple of years. Jacob knew he could refrain from killing him in that time. He would settle for breaking up his marriage to Bella. Seeing Edward alone would be satisfaction enough.

Bella sighed. "Can you at least try not to provoke him? We're leaving for Scotland in a couple of days. I think it'll be the change we need. The two of you just have to give it a chance."

Jacob nodded. He'd give Edward a chance. A chance to survive a stake to the heart or a lion injected with slow-acting poison if they got into it again. All he had to do was wait until they moved to another country and he could blame anything he did on one of the locals. He could be patient until then.


	3. Control and Chaos

The plane ride to Scotland was as pleasant as it could be. In that Edward had emptied the flight attendant's cart of those nifty little bottles of alcohol and Bella spent the time reading Wuthering Heights and trying to explain her favorite passages to Jacob and Nessie. The two responded by ignoring her and holding hands when she was too wrapped up in the book to pay attention (and pretend she wasn't jealous). Edward responded to that by locking himself up in the bathroom and relieving his tension until his right hand began to chafe. Twelve hours passed unbearably slowly in this fashion.

Finally, they landed at the tiny airport. Edward broke a number of traffic laws driving them to the home Bella had picked out online. It was the house closest to the forest the village shared with the school. Strangely enough, they could see the castle in the distance. Edward supposed it was because none of them were normal humans, even Jacob had remarked on the large building dominating the landscape. Edward had rolled his beautiful ocher eyes at him, grabbed his, Nessie's and Bella's luggage and left Jacob to juggle his own bags with Renesmee, who insisted on riding on his back into the house.

They'd scarcely settled into the one story cottage before Bella started in again. Edward was in the master bedroom hanging his collection of all black Armani jackets when she came in and put her arms around his waist from behind. Her hand slipped to cup him through the skin tight black leather pants he was wearing. Finally. His right arm was starting to show a little decomp. If Bella was going to do her wifely duty, that would give Edward time to heal.

He put his hand over hers and stilled her movements. If she kept going like that, he'd have to get the pants cleaned. He doubted a village this size had a dry cleaner who could get protein stains out of leather. "Ready to break in the new bed?" Edward asked. He inclined his head towards the king sized bed Bella had picked out. He could feel her denial in the way she immediately pulled away from him.

"I thought we'd talk a little bit," Bella said. She walked over and sat on the bed. Hope wasn't totally gone. At least she was in the right place, even if her legs were closed like a steel trap.

"What do you want to talk about?" Edward began to unbutton his shirt. He licked his lips. It was useless, he knew, but attempting to hypnotize Bella was probably the best bet he had at breaking his forced chastity. Maybe she would let herself succumb for once.

"Jacob."

Just like that, Edward's arousal turned into rage. Or a curious combination he couldn't readily identify. Regardless, he no longer wanted to ravage his wife.

"Now, don't look like that," Bella said, putting a hand up.

"I can't help it," he responded. "I was born with this beautiful face."

"I mean, don't get upset."

"How do you expect me to respond, Bella?"

She didn't answer. Instead, she smiled and unbuttoned the first two buttons of her shirt. Edward licked his lips again. Heaving was a good look on her, even if it was blatant manipulation.

"He's agreed to a truce," she said. Bella ran a finger along the open collar, easing her finger down until it touched the top of her bra. "If you agree to it as well, there might something in it for you." She slipped another button through its hole. "Think about it. A fresh new start. We can go hunting together in peace." She eased the sides of her shirt apart. "There'd be a lot less tension." Using her other hand, she inched up the tight skirt she was wearing over her thighs. "The bad kind, anyway."

Her voice had dropped low and the front of her shirt opened lower. Edward should be above this kind of directed persuasion. After all, he'd managed to stay a virgin through seventeen human years and quite a number of vampire years. He'd even survived the 60s with his innocence intact. But something about watching his wife slowly undress was enough to break his resolve. He blamed it on his current withdrawals. If he and Bella were having sex regularly, this would do nothing for him. The fact that she was taking off her clothes while talking about Jacob should not have turned him on, but for some reason it did nothing to dampen his arousal. The rage and other nameless feelings coursing through his body actually increased it. Edward didn't question it. He just jumped on the bed and relieved Bella of her clothes, ignoring her faint protests until they turned into moans of pleasure. Afterwards, Edward found himself smiling. It was the first genuine one in over a year.

Bella lifted her head from her husband's chest and cocked her ear towards the hall outside their room. "Renesmee and Jake will be glad to hear you finally agreed to the truce," she said.

Edward's trademark scowl returned. He rose from the bed and quickly pulled his clothes on. "I never said that."

"No, but that's what you meant to say," Bella remarked. She leaned up and pressed her bare chest against his back. "If you need me to remind you of the benefits of this arrangement, I'd be happy to."

This second invitation did nothing for him. Edward shrugged off his wife's hands. "I think I need some air." Without turning around, he stalked from the bedroom. By the time he entered the living room, most of his anger at his wife's manipulation was gone, only to be replaced by more tension when he entered the room and found his daughter and Jacob. Renessme was on her computer, feet propped up as Jacob gave her toenails a glossy new coat.

"I heard you and mother made up," she said without looking up from the screen.

Edward immediately wondered why Bella picked such a small house. She was already worried about her precious Jake overhearing their love life, wasn't it worse when it was their daughter?

"I think mother was happy about your decision." She looked up at her father and smiled. "Just make sure you stick to it." Renesmee looked down than at where Jacob was just finishing with her toenails. He'd lifted her foot and was blowing the nail polish dry.

"Do you like it?" he asked. "It'll be a bit darker once it's dry."

"She will be pleased," Renesmee said, looking down at her toenails which now sparkled as much as her father's skin.

"Are you...talking about yourself in the third person?" Edward asked slowly.

Jacob nodded and looked up from where he kneeled on the floor. "Her future self. She is confident the method of speech will become popular as others become aware of her unique perfection."

The other man's voice set something off in Edward. His muscles tensed, even one he hadn't expected to respond to Jacob. This forced truce was aggravating. "I have to go for a run." He glanced towards the window. It was sunset, nearing complete darkness outside. This would be the first chance he had to survey the woods surrounding their new home. If he was lucky, maybe he'd find a good spot to build Jacob his own house to move into.  


* * *

  
Edward returned much later than he'd expected to. The school was surrounded by some sort of force field that made running past a certain distance into the forest impossible. They would have to get permission from someone in the school to hunt there, depending on what kind of animals could be found. In spite of his lack of progress, Edward managed to wander around the woods all night. He'd needed to clear his head. Besides that, with Jacob there, he knew no one would miss him. Everyone was still asleep when he got home just after sunset. Bella had taken up the entire bed as usual and, as he peeked in on Renesmee, he noticed that Jacob had slept curled up on the foot of her bed. He would have to do something about that. Later. First he had to change clothes.

By the time he emerged from his closet dressed in all black, Bella was out of bed. He heard an unfamiliar voice in the front of the house and ran into the room to investigate. The woman standing just before the front door jumped at his sudden appearance, her hand immediately going to her throat as she attempted to catch her breath.

"I'm sorry if I startled you," he said. He smiled at the human. He hoped his hair was in order. Edward reached a hand upward and tousled his hair in a movement so quick she couldn't see it. Not that it mattered. She wasn't looking at him. Not when Jacob was standing there shirtless, one arm around Nessie, the other up as he pretended to stretch while flexing his considerable arm muscles. Even Bella took a moment to stare before turning back to the woman at their door.

"I'm sorry to intrude so early in the morning, but the Ministry just alerted us of your arrival and I knew I had to come over and greet you as soon as possible." She cleared her throat. "How rude of me. I've forgotten to introduce myself. I'm Minerva McGonagall, Transfiguration professor and Deputy Headmistress at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." She gestured behind her in the direction of the castle. "I don't know if any besides Renesmee can see it, but—"

"We all remarked on the building the minute we were in driving distance," Bella said. "Didn't we, Edward?"

He nodded. The professor still wasn't looking at him. Edward may as well have been unbearably gorgeous wallpaper. He ruffled his hair again.

"Yes," McGonagall began, "I'd heard you were a...unique family," she said, her eyes drifting to Jacob's chiseled abs. She shook her head quickly and cleared her throat, directing her attention back to Bella. "I was alerted to your arrival because your daughter's been invited to attend Hogwarts. With your permission, of course."

"Our daughter's a witch?" Bella asked in a hushed voice.

"Of course," Renesmee responded before Professor McGonagall could say anything. "You didn't really think I was this wonderful and special just because I was born to you, did you?"

Edward had believed just that, but he didn't say as much. It was enough to know his daughter had yet another gift to make her life just that much more perfect.

"Don't worry about how she'll do in her classes," the professor stated. "I will tutor her myself so she may join her classmates in sixth year. That is, if you'd like her to attend the school."

"Of course we would. Wouldn't we Edward?" Bella asked.

"If this is what our daughter wants," he said, coming to stand next to his wife.

Professor McGonagall looked at him before quickly averting her eyes. Her cheeks took on a faint color. Edward recognized that look. He'd seen it from many human women. She was dazzled by his presence as had been many women before her. It was strange, she didn't seem at all that taken by Renesmee or Bella, but the moment she raised her eyes to him, she gasped. Funny, he wasn't trying anymore and she obviously found him irresistible. Before he could ask the professor a question about the school, she lunged towards him, licking his face from the corner of his chiseled jaw to the arch of his perfect brow. She licked him several more times before she gasped again. Her eyes widened and, struggling, she forced herself to move away from him.

"Forgive me," she said, taking another step back. "Most of our student's parents aren't so sparkly and pretty." _And you taste so damn delicious_, she thought afterward. Edward knew if he were alive, the intensity of her thoughts might make him blush. She was probably about thirty years younger than himself, but seemed even younger when she became so easily flustered in his presence.

Bella growled deep in her throat and flexed her hand. Edward grabbed her arm and pulled her back a couple of steps.

"Is there someone we should contact once Renesmee has made her decision?" Edward asked.

McGonagall nodded. Her hand fluttered at her throat again, this time pulling at the buttons of her tartan dress in a way that reminded Edward of his wife's actions the night before. He had to get the woman out of his home before she stripped down completely and lunged again. Bella had remarkable control, but she wouldn't hesistate to rip the woman apart if she came after her husband.

"I'll leave my owl outside. Just write a letter and she'll get it to me or the Headmaster, Professor Dumbledore." She fumbled with her pocket for a second before pulling out a sealed letter. "This is your official invitation to come to Hogwarts. Inside you'll find a list of supplies you'll need and directions to various places where you can buy them. I hope you'll decide to join us." She said all this while staring at Edward, finishing with a long, slow lick of her lips. Renesmee took the letter from her hand. Bella began to lunge forward. Jacob let go of Renesmee and went to help Edward hold her mother back.

Edward cleared his throat. No one else seemed to want to speak. "I'll make sure we get back to you by lunch. Thank you for coming, Professor."

Renesmee walked her to the door just in time. Bella broke free of their hold and lunged towards the door, stopped when Renesmee slammed the door just before her mother reached it. She recovered from running face first into the door quickly, turning to her husband and scowling before stomping her way back to their bedroom. _Good_, Edward thought. _Maybe now she'll pay me more attention._

Renesmee turned to her father and pulled out her mother's sly smile. She held up the letter Professor McGonagall had handed her. "How soon can we shop for my things?"


	4. Entrance

When Renesmee Cullen entered Hogwarts for the first time, quite a few things happened at once. The portraits along the walls of the Entrance Hall all seemed to sigh in unison. A number of their inhabitants were struck speechless for the first time since their creation. When the wind blew in behind her, the hall filled with a heavenly smell; it carried through the castle and made every person it reached weep with happiness. And Harry James Potter paused coming down the grand staircase. It wasn't just the way the womanchild's wavy brown locks tossed fetchingly in the breeze or the way her cheeks flushed with becoming color as she stepped inside, it was the small smile she tossed up at him before continuing into the castle that became his undoing. Harry would swear later that his heart stopped beating for a few seconds before beating again in rhythm with hers. The only thing he would immediately become aware of was the absolute beauty of that brief smile and the excrutiating pain that came when his foot missed the stairs and he tumbled head first the rest of the way down, landing in a bloody heap in the center of the floor in the girl's wake.

Just before he passed out, Harry thought he heard an angel sing. It may have been an echo of her sigh.  


* * *

  
When Harry woke in the Hospital Wing he learned more about the girl. Her name was Renesmee Cullen, he'd discovered, listening to Professor Slughorn mumble through his half-conscious daze. He'd spilled a cauldron full of poison when she'd entered his class to introduce herself and had nearly killed half the Ravenclaw Quidditch team in the process. Harry learned from Professor Snape that she was an expert huntress. He'd blown up his desk while attempting to teach a defensive spell and was in the Hospital Wing complaining that someone had better remove the shrapnel from his eyes before his next class—he had to see her again. Then there was Professor Sprout. She'd let a plant eat a couple of her fingers when Renesmee smiled at her and had to have them grown back immediately on the off chance she might get a chance to brush the girl's hand again. There were at least a dozen others with similar stories (and some with worse injuries) filling the beds of the Hospital Wing.

Harry frowned. He hadn't expected to wake up to so much competition for her attention, for her hand. Normally, it didn't matter. After all, he was Harry fucking Potter and half the Wizarding World would fall at his feet if he so much as snapped his fingers. But this was different. _She_ was different. He knew he'd need a lot more than a sexy scar and a sob story about his parents to get this one to forget everyone else and focus only on him. (What he needed was a badass title, to be more obscenely wealthy than he already was and some superawesome powers that no one else had, but that was impossible.) He'd need someone whose advice he rarely listened to, but who obviously knew more about girls than he did. He had to swallow his pride and ask Hermione.  


* * *

  
Harry caught up with her in the Great Hall at the beginning of dinner. When he sat down, Hermione seemed distracted. She kept looking around the room and then checking her watch, frowning every few seconds.

He didn't want to ask—his business was more important, as usual—but he knew he'd never get anything out of her if he didn't let her whine first. "Hermione's what's wrong?"

"It's Ron," she said, pouting. "First, he snapped at me the other day and then this morning, I asked him why he wasn't arguing back with me about the answer on yesterday's quiz and he just knocked me over and went running down the hall!" Hermione sniffled and wiped her nose on her sleeve. "I wasn't upset for long though, there was this smell..." She smiled as her voice trailed off, then looked down at her watch again. "You know it's not like Ron to miss a meal, or even be late if he can help it. I hope I didn't upset him too much."

_No_, Harry thought. _That moment would be when he peeked in on you at the Burrow and found out you wear those horrible granny panties._

"I don't think he's going to be upset for long, if he is at all," Harry assured her. "Just give him time to cool off." _Three...two..._ "Can I ask your advice?"

She immediately perked up. Trust her to be comforted by having to solve someone else's problem.

"There's a girl I like," Harry began. "She's beautiful and smart and talented and I have to tell her how I feel." He frowned. "She hasn't noticed me yet, not that way, but I think this could be the start of something special."

Hermione smiled again and covered his hand with hers on the table.

"You have to help me, Hermione. I have to talk to her, but I don't know how."

"Ginny, finally?" Hermione smiled. "Oh, that'll be easy."

"Ginny?" Harry's face took on a momentary look of confusion. "No, there's this new girl. I couldn't see her clearly enough earlier, but I think she may be in Slytherin." To cause such havoc around the school, she had to have some kind of natural dark abilities.

"You like a girl in Slytherin?" Hermione asked. She couldn't keep the incredulity out of her voice.

"Yes," Harry responded. "It is possible."

"But you've always talked about how they couldn't be trusted and were practically Death Eaters in training!"

He knew it now. Hermione was jealous. He'd thought she'd just been rambling when she talked about how fanciable he was these days. It was too bad she wasn't prettier, he might have considered it.

"Yes, fine," Harry said. "But Dumbledore said I should embrace my strengths. The power of love and all that. It saved my life and I think it could help me find the love of my life." Harry forgot the rest of what he was going to say when Renesmee walked into the room, followed by Draco carrying her books and Ron carrying her wand on a pillow. A small circular table appeared near the High Table and she went to it. Both boys knelt by her side until she dismissed them with a small nod, leaving room for a House Elf to appear with a silver tray of food. Harry didn't realize he'd stopped breathing until she took a bite from her food and smiled at the House Elf. The servant's high giggle carried across the room before he disappeared with a loud pop. The very room seemed to reverberate from everyone letting out their held breath at the same time. Nervous laughter could he heard throughout the suddenly quiet space.

He turned back to Hermione. She had just turned back to him. She'd opened her mouth to speak, but stopped; her jaw opened and closed needlessly before she finally closed her mouth. Harry didn't ask why she was blushing and couldn't seem to gather her thoughts. She _was_ jealous, just not in the way he'd thought. Harry felt the same way. He just had to get Renesmee to notice him.


	5. Subconcious

Things were tight. Shirts. Jeans. Nerves. Even with Renesmee off at school, the house felt small with only the three of them. The air was sucked out of the room when they were together. Sounds seemed to echo off walls when they were in separate rooms. Edward felt like he could hear every inhalation Jacob made when he stood behind their little house in his snug jeans, bending and stretching as he warmed up for a workout. He was nearly always stretching, Edward had noticed. Bending over in the kitchen. In the living room as he searched for the remote. Flexing his tight back muscles and calves as he reached for a towel at the top of the linen closet. He spent so much time stretching his muscles, Edward thought he must be the most loose man in the country. Or he would think that if Jacob didn't seem to tense up every time he caught Edward looking. His eyes would narrow and his mouth would flatten from the usual full, sensuous curve into a flat line. Then he would walk into another room, brushing past Edward and filling the vampire's nose with his animal scent. He had to constantly remind himself not to inhale.

This tension didn't help the situation with Bella. For some reason, she was angry with Edward; he assumed it was because of the way Professor McGonagall had reacted to him. As if it was his fault the woman was all over him. Bella was just being silly. She'd seen women flirt with him before. _She'd_ thrown herself at him shamelessly, practically stalking him until he'd consented to a date. Had she forgotten?

All right, so he had been stalking, uh...interested in her first, but he had been planning to stop as soon as the urge to bite her (the bad way) became overwhelming. Lucky for both of them it hadn't. He only wished some urge would hit him now. After that one night they'd spent together, Edward hadn't been able to garner the smallest bit of interest in Bella, sexual or otherwise. Not that she'd noticed. She was too busy throwing a temper tantrum every time he tried to start a conversation or stalking off to her room to lay in bed and stare at the ceiling like a catatonic slug. He'd heard about her behavior when he'd left, but Edward had thought the threat of going to a hospital (never mind becoming a vampire) would've trained the silliness out of her, but he could be wrong for the first time in his long life.

Or the second time since he'd thought Jacob would never want to help him with anything.

After the third day of huffing and stomping off from Bella, Edward was ready to give up on her completely. If she was going to act like she had a ten pound mace stuck up her—

"Can we talk?" Edward looked up. Surprise was one word for what he felt hearing Jacob speak to him in something that wasn't a growl. "Alone?" He added with a glance down the hall.

"We'll have to go outside," Edward said.

He nodded towards the front door and lagged behind as Jacob strutted to the door and started outside. They walked quite a distance away from the house, into the forest that ended on school grounds. When they were surrounded by trees and had lost sight of the cottage, Jacob stopped walking and leaned against a tree. He watched Edward with a steady gaze as he crossed his arms over his bare chest.

"What do you have to say to me?" As if Edward couldn't guess. It had taken Professor McGonagall mere seconds, but it wouldn't surprise him if Jacob had finally succumbed after years of denying his true feelings. Too bad for him it would never happen.

"You mean you didn't read my mind?"

"I avoid it as much as possible," came the quick reply.

Jacob bared in his teeth in what Edward supposed was a smile. "It's Bella. She's losing her mind."

"She's fine."

"She's become a raging bitch," Jacob corrected.

Edward flinched. He'd never heard the other man curse before. The effect was oddly...stimulating.

"You have to do something about her," Jacob continued. "She claimed all she wanted was for us to stop fighting—"

"To get along," Edward added.

"But what she really wants is for us to like each other."

Edward rolled his eyes. "Like that could ever happen," he said. He almost smiled when he realized Jacob had said the words with him. He stopped himself just in time. "So what did you expect me to do about it?"

"I don't know. Have you tried spanking her when she acts like a spoiled child?"

The two men stared each other down before Jacob burst out laughing. Edward reluctantly smiled. It was a small one, but it was something. He tore his eyes away from the rapid rise and fall of Jacob's abs and stared into his eyes.

"I would never raise a hand to her," Edward said evenly. "Whatever is bothering Bella, she'll get over it."

"Whatever...oh, I forgot you can't read her mind." Jacob sneered. "It's no wonder you have so many problems with her. You can't get along with someone if you can't read their mind enough to manipulate them."

"Manipulate? Me?" His voice rose in an ear-piercing shriek. If looks could kill, Edward would've begun searching for a spot to bury some half naked remains.

"Yes, _you_. You did it when she was human," Jacob said. "Whispering to her in her sleep to make her dream about you, giving her those looks at school—it's no wonder she went crazy when you left. Once you stopped all the constant control, I'm amazed Bella remembered how to think for herself at all. Come to think of it, she did forget to eat. Damn near forgot to breathe. You made her pathetic."

Jacob had scarcely finished his statement before Edward pushed him against the tree, one hand firmly around the shapeshifter's throat. "Don't ever talk about Bella like that."

"Truth bothers you?" Jacob pushed him away, laughing. "You know she wouldn't have married you if you hadn't spent so much time getting into her head. You made her feel as if she couldn't live without you. And now you wonder why she acts like a brat when someone else looks twice at what she almost killed herself to hold on to," he said. "You're lucky she didn't kill that professor. She's still pretty strong."

Though no longer a new vampire, Edward hadn't known quite how strong Bella remained until the day they'd had to keep her from ripping into Professor McGonagall. Still, he didn't believe he was the reason Bella was acting so nutty. She rarely acted like she wanted him herself these days; he found it hard to believe she was genuinely that put out that someone else wanted him. Edward just thought it was because Professor McGonagall was one of the few people who didn't seem enamored of her and Renesmee. Even if Jacob might have a point, that was no reason to suddenly agree with him. He had a tradition to maintain, after all.

"I still don't see why you think I have to do something about her," Edward said. "I'm perfectly happy with things the way they are."

Edward didn't have to read Jacob's mind to know the other man thought he was a liar. It was obvious from his expression and short, humorless laugh. He stepped close, until he was close enough that Edward could feel the heat radiating from his skin as if he were standing near a roaring fire. "Bella acting like this is not making you happy, and you and I both know it." He reached out to touch Edward's shoulder. The vampire could feel the strong fingers through his shirt like an iron branding his ice cold skin. "There's only one thing that could do that," he whispered. "And you know letting your wife's jealousy drive a wedge between you is the only way you can justify what you want to do to make yourself happy."

Before Edward could ask him to explain himself, Jacob walked away. In spite of his confusion, Edward couldn't help watching him walk back to the house, his eyes glued on the bulging muscles of his back as he moved. There was something in Jacob's words that stuck in Edward's mind, niggling at his subconscious as he wondered what possible he reason he could have for wanting Bella to put distance between them. He loved his wife, even when she was a whiny, self-involved bitch who constantly changed her mind about who and what she wanted and confused her immature temper tantrums with expressions of passion. Her little quirks were sexy.

But Jacob had left him wondering, what more could he want?


	6. Out of Control

It was Gryffindor. Word traveled around the castle as soon as it had been decided. It wasn't decided by the Sorting Hat, exactly. Harry had overheard Professor McGonagall say the thing had gone speechless when Renesmee had tried it on in her office, stuttering out a nonanswer for the first time since its creation by the founders. Finally, it had informed the new student that she could choose which house would be hers. She chose the one which had the lion for a symbol, her father's favorite snack. When word reached Gryffindor Tower that she would be moving in to the sixth year dorm, two of the girls (Harry had never bothered memorizing Hermione's roommate's names) moved out to give Renesmee plenty of room. In short order, she was moved in, and the rest of the houses settled into a sort of depression; they began to feel Gryffindor housed the more popular celebrities of the Wizarding World.

By the time she moved her belongings into the room, Renesmee had gathered quite a following. Though, not everyone was enamored of her. Romilda Vane was overheard saying the new girl smelled like she used Filch's old bathwater for perfume. Mysteriously, minutes later she was seen running towards the Hospital Wing, screaming as handfuls of her hair fell out. Ginny Weasley was another fifth year student who didn't seem impressed by the American exchange student. After being pushed aside and trampled so others could follow Renesmee, Ginny decided to get revenge by shrinking all of her school clothes two sizes. She snuck into the sixth year dorm the next morning to see the results of her handiwork. The results surprised her.

Renesmee smiled when she saw who was behind her; her sharp teeth gleamed in the light from a nearby lantern. "Take a good look," Renesmee said to Ginny as she turned in front of the full length mirror. "This is how you're supposed to wear _that_," she said, motioning to the other girl's reflection. She winked at Ginny. "Maybe one day you'll be hot like I am." Ginny didn't want to admit, the extra tight shirt and jumper and short skirt would attract more attention than Renesmee was already getting; not the intended effect of the prank. Maybe she'd be better off asking Fred and George for ideas. In the meantime, she had better stay away from Renesmee Cullen. Ginny ran a hand over her hair as the other girl picked up her books from her bed. She had a feeling she would be safer if she kept her distance.  


* * *

  
Within a week, Renesmee was holding nightly meetings inside the Gryffindor common room. Not only was she the prettiest witch in school, she was also the smartest, though Hermione felt that was still up for some debate as she hadn't quite caught up with everyone in their year yet. Tonight she was offering romantic advice, a relief to the girls who listened because every boy only seemed to want one girl now. Renesmee had made it clear to the bravest who asked that she wasn't interested, but that hadn't stopped them from filling the dorm room with flowers and gifts, even from the boys who had girlfriends—and possibly a few professors.

After taking several questions from the gathered girls, Renesmee shook her head in disapproval. There was a fundamental problem with the girls at Hogwarts and it had less to do with their unfortunate taste in beauty products (body glitter?) and more to do with how they acted around the boys of the school. "You should all have more confidence in yourselves," Renesmee said. "Boys won't like you if don't make them."

"Make them how?" Lavender asked. "I couldn't pay a boy around Hogwarts to like me."

"You don't have to," the other girl said. She leaned her head just slightly to the side, assessing her roommate. "There's nothing wrong with you a new approach wouldn't cure. Just do what my parents did. Stalk the first boy to come through that door until he loves you. Make him realize he'll never be happy without you, make him do things like beg you to bite him in order to prove you want him if it comes to that. Kiss him like you want to devour his face. Sneak into his room in the middle of the night and watch him sleep. Trust me," she said at the skeptical look which appeared on the other girl's faces. "It worked for my parents and they're so happy now."

"I don't know," Lavender said softly. But when the common room door opened and Ron Weasley walked in, quickly followed by Harry and Seamus, her uncertainty began to reform as a vague plan in the back of her mind. For the next several minutes, she and Pavarti huddled over a table in the corner, looking back and forth at her target as they debated the best way to begin this new plan. Quidditch tryouts were the next day. If she was going to make him notice her, she had to start by supporting him in a place where few others did—even if it meant the rest of their house hating her as much as Ron if he repeated his performance level of the previous year, assuming he made the team again.

"I'll do it," Lavender said as the plan finally began to make sense.

"Of course you will," Renesmee said, glancing to where Lavender stared. The other girl would take her advice, even if she had to hypnotize her to do it. Anything to keep her from giving Renesmee the kind of longing look she was having to fight off from too many people, her roommates included. And the distraction would get Ron Weasley away from her as well; he was all right as a minion, but his constant drooling was a bit messy.  


* * *

  
Harry was still stuck for ideas on how to get Renesmee to notice him. Dobby was no help. Harry had sent him to find out what she might like—because, let's face it, he could put the other boys' gifts to shame—but the House Elf had come back with nothing but a perfumed handerchief the witch had dropped and a promise that he could exclusively wash her laundry if he did not reveal her secrets. Saddened by the news, Harry joined his friends for breakfast in the Great Hall. It was a small comfort to see the other boys mired in the same type of depression. None of them had any hope of garnering her favor. When Hermione joined them, Harry thought he might have a slight advantage. His best friend had been her roommate for over a week now, she had to have some kind of useful information.

Before he could ask Hermione for advice again, he spotted two younger Gryffindor girls coming in behind her. "Ew," Harry said. Both girls were covered in bruises on every visible surface—faces, necks and arms. One was limping and the other seemed to be missing a few teeth from the top of her mouth. "What the bloody hell happened to them?"

"A fight," Hermione stated. "There was a disagreement over who would get to brush Renesmee's hair before bed and...well, it started out innocently enough, as a pillow fight. Then it turned rather rough," she said, gesturing to the girls who were both carefully lowering themselves to seats further down the table. "If you think that's bad, you should've seen the battle over who would rub her feet. I think they're both still in the Hospital Wing."

"That's awful," Seamus said.

"I would've loved to have watched that," Dean added. Harry and Ron nodded in agreement, smiles appearing on both their faces.

Rather than lecture them on the crassness of the statement, Hermione sat staring down at her empty plate. It wasn't like her to pass up an excuse to fuss at them. Harry waved a hand in front of her eyes then snapped his fingers. "Hermione, what's wrong?"

"It's Renesmee." Several heads turned and Hermione dropped her voice to a whisper. "It's the strangest thing."

Both Ron and Harry leaned close to her, Ron was practically in her lap as they urged her to continue.

"She's three."

"What?" Both Harry and Ron stared at her; Ron's mouth was hanging open.

"That's what Professor McGonagall says," Hermione told them. "The Ministry sent a copy of her birth records and she was born three years ago."

"Are you sure?" Harry asked. "Because she looks..."

"Our age," Hermione finished for him. "I know."

"Not quite our age," Ron said. "She's a lot more—" He held his hands out in front of his chest, grinning as Hermione blushed.

"She was born a little different, obviously. By the end of the school year, she may look a great deal older than we are. Or not. Professor McGonagall isn't sure how she'll age," Hermione said.

"It doesn't matter," Harry said. "She'll still be wonderful."

"Gorgeous," Ron added.

"Sexy," Harry said.

"Rather short and chubby," Ginny said as she walked up. "We are talking about what's-her-name with the too small clothes, right?"

"Renesmee," Ron informed her as she sat down. "And her clothes fit her perfectly." He turned to glance at his sister. "She actually fills them out."

"I wonder if she's part Veela," Hermione said.

"Those ugly wenches?" Ron looked at her in disgust before turning back to his friends.

"You know, she's not even that pretty," Ginny chimed in. "Her teeth are funny looking."

Harry turned to her slowly, eyes narrow. "I always knew you were pretty thick, but I didn't think you were blind as well. She's _perfect_."

And he would get close to her. He would just have to get creative.  


* * *

  
Edward had had enough. After a few more days of the silent treatment, Edward had surprised Bella with a trip to a nice spa in London. She would get a few days to relax and he would get a few days to brood uninterrupted. Except, that was, for the presence of a certain shapeshifter whose thoughts turned to Bella more often than he was comfortable with. One such thought was of walking up on Bella and "accidentally" going in when she was in the shower—if Edward wasn't mistaken, this memory was rather recent. It was the smile on Jacob's face when Edward came into the living room that really set the vampire off.

"It's no wonder we can never get along," he said as he ran across the room. "You're always provoking me."

"Am I?" Jacob flinched as Edward's hands closed around his throat.

"You know you are," he growled, his eyes gleaming. "Always dominating my wife's time, forcing her to choose between us, turning Renesmee against me—"

"I never did that," Jacob lied. "And she's not even here now." His hand moved to Edward's wrist, attempting to ease the pressure on his throat. "We both know what this is about. Just stop."

"And...and...why are you always shirtless?" Edward blurted. It took him a moment to realize he'd said the words out loud. He dropped his hands and took a couple of steps backward. "That's not what I meant to say. I—"

"Oh, shut up," Jacob said. "I figured it days ago. You've been in denial, probably for a while."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Edward took another step back as the shapeshifter took a step towards him. "What are you doing?"

"Showing you what I'm talking about," he said just before he pounced.

Now, of course Edward knew what Jacob was about to do; he could read his mind. He could have stopped him if he wanted to. But, for some reason he couldn't name, he just didn't. When Jacob pressed their lips together, he struggled, though it was a half-hearted objection that didn't utilize a third of his strength. When the shapeshifter had him pressed against the wall and their tongues met in a fiery union, Edward gave up pretending and kissed Jacob back, his hands roaming until he'd ripped the clothes from both their writhing bodies. He wasn't sure which of them had steered them in that direction, but when they landed on his bed, Edward knew it was right. He didn't say no to anything Jacob wanted of him and even responded by screaming and crying like a little girl at all the right moments. Afterwards, he thought of Bella. It was unfortunate he had to find out this way, but she really did have fantastic taste.


	7. Falling Hard

"I still hate you," Edward said into the dark.

"I still hate you," Jacob responded, the same dull tone in his voice. He started to rise from the bed only to be stopped by a hand on his wrist. The fingers squeezed then released him, as if Edward had suddenly rethought the rash gesture. As if thinking was going to help either of them now. He should send him away. Tell everyone Jacob had gotten tired of the fighting and left. They'd buy it. Even if they suspected otherwise, if they never found a body, they'd buy it. That's it. Edward would give Jacob money and send him back to his family in Washington. Or he could kill him. That'd be a sure way to keep this whole mess a secret.

"My nipples are hard," Edward said instead.

The laugh that carried back to him in the dark brought with it a chilling effect. "That's all I needed to know," Jacob said before getting back into bed. "Now turn around and try not to be so loud this time. I can hear sounds most humans can't but you don't have to do bat calls to let me know you like it."

Edward said nothing. Chances were, if this time was as good as the first, he'd be too hoarse to scream after a while anyhow.  


* * *

  
The row of girls on the other side of the table in the Great Hall leaned forward as Renesmee opened the American tabloid and began reading from the story inside. "'English heartthrob RPattz has stunned celeb watchers today by admitted to an ongoing affair with costar TLaut.'" Several of the girls gasped on cue. "'The pair bonded while working out at the gym in preparation for _Nearly Dark_, the romantic comedy where they play rivals for the same vapid headcase.'" Renesmee frowned. "I like the girl in the movie," she said of the movie sequel's female star. Several of the other girls nodded, though none of them had seen the first movie. Renesmee continued.

"'It would be more accurate to say that RPattz watched his lover work out since he is accustomed to having his abs airbrushed so as not to risk damaging his frail frame with the stress of lifting and sweating at the gym. This has not turned off TLaut, however, who has described his lover's nearly emaciated body as "the only bones I like to bone." This comment has proven true (and graphic!) as leaked video of one of these secret gym sessions has appeared in the adult section of Daily Motion dot com.'" Renesmee made a mental note to visit that website the first chance she could get to her computer. There had to be some kind of spell that would allow her to use the internet while inside the castle.

"'Meanwhile, costar KStew, who was once rumored to have a hot and heavy romance with RPattz, was seen coming out of actress Morgana Foxel's dressing room. Her oversized, grubby shirt was buttoned incorrectly and she continuously wiped at the smeared lipstick around her mouth as she attempted to dodge cameras. When she was finally cornered and asked about the revelations concerning her male costars, she merely shrugged and said, "I thought as much when I found the pregnancy test in TLaut's trashcan."'" Renesmee blinked hard. Even she hadn't seen a pregnancy coming. Still, if the video was what the article hinted, it was bound to happen sometime. Too bad it was going to force the gorgeous TLaut to gain weight. She closed the tabloid and folded the paper over. There was a collective sigh of disappointment from the girls who had gathered to hear her read.

"Don't look so sad," Renesmee said. "I'm sure there will be more to the story tomorrow." _At least, I hope so_, she thought. She didn't think it was possible, but the constant fawning over her was getting a little tiring. If everyone was talking about something else, maybe they'd give her a few minutes each day to relax. Sighing, she watched as one of the girls gathered her books and the rest of the group prepared to walk her to class.  


* * *

  
Odd. Edward knew it was possible for his deceased body to receive injuries, but he didn't think it was possible to actually feel soreness. Of course, he had good reason. Jacob had seen to that. He then laughed when Edward claimed to be "tired" (they both knew it was impossible) and went for a run, not bothering to put on a shirt though the morning air was much colder than what they were used to. Edward had made the excuse because he needed to be alone.

He hadn't considered it the first time. The thoughts hadn't crossed his mind even after they'd been together three times. But after the eleventh time, guilt started to set in. Not over his wife—she was so frigid these days, a glacier looked like a bed of molten lava next to her. He felt bad that his daughter depended on Jacob...for something. At her age, their relationship was still unclear, but he knew she thought he would be with her forever. As her friend if not a lot more than that.

But soulmates were overrated. He knew that firsthand. The initial attraction was great, but if it wasn't accompanied by hot growling and claws and that smell he used to hate and taut muscles and...Edward sighed. He'd have to tell both of them. Soon. Neither was psychic, but the way his thoughts were now being dominated by Jacob, it wouldn't take a mind reader to be able to tell what happened. He just had to hope his daughter would forgive him one day. Because he was certainly nowhere near giving up this new obsession.  


* * *

  
Frustration. At first it was nice having another super smart person in every class (including the ones she shouldn't have been able to fit into her schedule); it offered Hermione something of a challenge. Certainly, her teachers had stopped doing that after third year. Now...well, now it was just frustrating that teachers frequently forgot Hermione Granger was there. It was only the third week of school and her roommate had become the center of attention in all areas. Now, as far as the boys of the school were concerned, Hermione didn't care. Even when they drooled and pushed her to the side to get close to Renesmee. But when it came to her favorite professors? Unacceptable.

She hadn't expected Professor McGonagall to treat the unusual girl as special, but she too had finally begun acting as if Renesmee was the smartest person she had in her classes—something Hermione considered a personal slight. It wasn't fair. She had worked her entire career at Hogwarts to be the undisputed queen of kissing up and prompt correct answers and if this girl thought she could just come into the school and steal her thunder—ooh! Professor McGonagall asked another question, disrupting Hermione's potentially violent train of thought.

Hermione raised her hand and began wiggling around in her seat, not surprised this time when Professor McGonagall called on Renesmee. After she gave her answer, Hermione smiled smugly. _She_ had the right one, as usual. Before she could raise her hand again to give the correct answer, McGonagall pronounced Renesmee's response correct. Hermione frowned. If that was true, it would undermine an essential magical law. She glanced down at her textbook. As she watched, the words in the book changed; now it matched Renesmee's answer. Being perfect was one thing, but changing the fundamentals of magic by her very thoughts? Now Hermione knew—it was quite possible for her to fall in love.  


* * *

  
Edward had just completed his morning brooding when a scratching at the front door caught his attention. He rushed into the living room. He'd never thought of playing with Jacob when he was in his wolf form, but the idea suddenly had appeal to him. It would be kinky. He could find out if Jacob howled when he...you know. As it was, Edward was too close to passing out when they were in their human forms to recall what was going on with Jacob at that moment. This could be his chance to find out both ways.

He frowned when he opened the door and was greeted with nothing more exciting than Professor McGonagall's owl carrying a note for him. He untied the note and waved the bird away before breaking the seal and scanning it quickly. _Great_, he thought as he tucked the note into his pocket. _Now I'll have to deal with—_

"Miss me?"

Edward looked up to find his wife standing in the doorway. He took a few steps back and looked down at the floor. All right, so maybe it was possible for him to feel guilt where his wife was concerned. "Of course I missed you," he said as she came forward with her bags. And it was still possible for him to lie to her. Good thing. Jacob had just walked in behind her.

"I heard you come up," Jacob said. "I'm so glad you're back. Things were boring without you."

Bella smiled warmly at him. "I missed you too, Jake. The spa was nice, but nothing beats hunting with you."

Edward was back to not feeling guilty again. Bella was becoming quite good at turning him off. Especially when she smiled at Jacob like she used to smile at him. He cleared his throat and she pulled her eyes away from Jacob.

"Thank you for sending me on the trip. It really helped me relax." Finally, she smiled at her husband.

Jacob grinned at him over her shoulder. "Edward found a way to loosen up while you were gone too."

Bella looked back and forth between them. "Did the two of you work things out?"

"Something like that," Edward said. He had begun to tense up; he suspected it was due to more than his wife's return and her attention to Jacob. Jake had apparently been working up quite a sweat while running around outside and the smell was doing something to the vampire. He really did have to remind himself not to inhale around Jacob. At least, not while Bella was around. Unfortunately, that might be all the time now.

"Wow, Edward," Bella said looking down at his shirt. "You look like you could cut glass."

He didn't respond. He couldn't. He crossed his arms in an attempt to hide his nipples and looked down at the floor again. Jacob laughed low in the back of his throat and brushed past Edward to go into his bedroom. The small place he touched with his body burned like he'd been stroked by an open flame. The vampire had to force himself not to watch him walk away or follow him, begging him to ravage his cold body again. Instead, he held up the note the owl had dropped off just before his wife's arrival.

"What's that?" Bella asked.

"It's from Professor McGonagall," Edward responded. He ignored his wife's immediate frown. "Something's happened with Renesmee and we have to meet with her. It's an emergency." Something they could handle, he hoped. As long as it didn't involve his daughter somehow guessing what had happened, Edward thought he was safe. For now.


	8. A Need for Astroglide

"I know I'm in trouble," Dumbledore said. He sighed. "You don't have to say anything."

The other wizard couldn't have said anything if he wanted to. Severus Snape had just walked into the Headmaster's office and stopped just shy of the doorway, speechless for the first time he could remember. The summoning through the Floo had been urgent, but the older wizard hadn't given any indication of a problem this serious. Snape stood staring until the entrance to the staircase closed behind him. The soft click of the door made him jump in place and then he stepped forward, stopping just before the cluttered desk.

He didn't quite know how it had happened, but Snape figured Renesmee Cullen had something to do with the current mess. Minerva hadn't answered his question when he passed her on the way up. She hadn't even responded to the pat on the rump she usually frowned on in front of the students with anything more than a slightly annoyed sigh before running off to fix the most recent disaster. He'd thought the school had fallen into chaos when the Cullen girl had began allowing others to kiss her feet after morning break. This, though, was another level of insane. He echoed the Headmaster's sigh and pulled out his wand. He had serious work to do.

"I can't believe you did this to yourself," he said finally. Snape frowned as he looked at Dumbledore's blackened hand in the dim light. He raised his eyes. "You did do this to yourself? I can't imagine you being silly enough to let someone else do this to you."

A grunt was the only reply. Albus just held out his hand and motioned for Severus to get started. The twinkling blue eyes held no emotion as Dumbledore watched the professor survey the damage. After the littany of potions he'd taken to numb himself against the excrutiating pain, he could feel little more than the burning look of censure from the man working in front of him.

"Really, Albus, what was this supposed to accomplish?"

"It was just to impress her, all right!"

Snape blinked hard. That scream was an overreaction, given the circumstances. "That makes so much sense," he said, his voice flat.

"Look, it was just one of those things. School boys do stupid things to impress girls all the time," Albus said. His eyes narrowed as Snape began laughing. "Of course _you_ wouldn't know that. You were a virgin until Minerva decided to have mercy on you last summer. And the way you reacted." He rolled his eyes. "I've never seen someone giggle and cry at the same time."

Snape stopped waving his wand around and dropped the blacked hand onto the desk. "You promised to never speak of it." His anger was too late. Several of the previous Headmasters' portraits around the room had begun laughing, some far louder than others. Severus knew it would only be a matter of minutes before every portrait and ghost in the castle knew what had happened. He just felt fortunate that Dumbledore hadn't let Minerva's nickname for him slip.

"Sorry," Albus said, sounding not at all apologetic. Rolling his eyes, Snape resumed attempting to heal the damage. "I just mean to say that you never tried to impress any of the girls here when you were in school. At least, not in a way that any of them would've noticed." He wasn't going to bring up that Lily Evans thing. He really would refuse to fix the hand then. "I suppose I just got carried away."

"Carried away?" Snape sighed again. The old man really did have a way of understating things. Renesmee was young enough to be his great great great great...great granddaughter. Severus still didn't see how cutting off one's hand would impress a girl, but he supposed his limited experience was to blame for that. He'd spent too much of his life thinking with the big head rather than letting his hormones control him. According to Minerva, that reservedness was why he was frequently constipated, but he didn't mind—he could always take his tension out on the students. After all, it did turn on the Transfiguration professor in a way the nice side of his personality never could.

"Yes, carried away," Dumbledore said. He glanced down the seam where his hand and wrist were rejoined. The skin was still black and it appeared as if the hand was close to coming off again. "Is there nothing else you can do?"

One dark eyebrow raised. Another move Minerva was fond of. Especially if he was holding a leather belt when he did it. "You''ll be lucky if an infection doesn't spread through your whole arm or further. Get a hold of yourself around that girl or you'll be dead within a year, Albus."

"Yes, whatever, fine," he said. He attempted to wave the hand in a dismissive gesture, but the black skin began to tear at the joint.

Snape sighed again and reached for his wand. This was going to be a long year.  


* * *

  
It was official. Edward was going to kill Bella. Well, maybe not kill. Just keep her from talking to him. He'd been torn between feeling guilty for the whole Jacob situation and thinking she deserved it as she alternately reminded him why he'd fallen in love with her and annoyed him to the point where he debated violence against her. She hadn't stopped babbling about how worried she was over their daughter ever since he'd read the brief note to her. The sound of Bella's voice was threatening to make Edward's perfect ears bleed—if he was still capable if that kind of thing. As it was, he now understood how some human married couples became bitter after a number of years. He just hadn't imagined it would take just the thought of Jacob's smile to make him wish he didn't have a wife. He would figure out what to do about his strange feelings later. For now, they had a serious situation to handle at Hogwarts.

Jacob had elected to not join them at the school, saying that he could wait until Renesmee had a chance to visit Hogsmeade with the rest of the students. The truth was, he was being a pussy about it, but Edward didn't say that. He just took his wife's hand and walked her to the gates of the school, nodding silently when she asked if he was all right. He would be, as soon as she shut up long enough to let him think straight. As they got closer to the school, the thoughts of the students and professors came flooding into his mind. It took all of Edward's concentration to block the thoughts out. But he had to. Many of them were thoughts about his daughter a father should never hear. Especially coming from what appeared to be her Potions professor.  


* * *

  
Harry took a deep breath. It was now or never. He took in the group of people waiting outside Renesmee's Arithmancy class so they could get a glimpse of her as she stepped out. Glancing back and forth along the hall, he whipped out his wand and sent Stunning spells in every direction. In another quick series of movements, he moved the bodies to either side of the door. With the competition out of the way, there would be no stopping him. After all, that had been the problem since Renesmee had come among them. Harry just hadn't had the opportunity to present his case in peace.

As he was thinking over his persuasive speech again, the door opened and the girl of his dreams stepped outside. Harry glanced past her. Apparently, she'd pulled the same trick he had to get out of the classroom unmolested. On everyone except one person. Blushing, Hermione waved at Harry before gingerly stepping around the bodies on the floor and skipping down the hall.

_Odd_, Harry thought. He turned back to Renesmee and his mind went blank. She really was quite beautiful. "I don't quite know how to say this," he began. _I need to do things to you that are probably illegal in a few countries_, he thought. No. _I had a dream that having you is better than killing Voldemort._ Maybe, but not yet. "I..."

"Shh," Renesmee shook her head. Smiling, she put a hand to his face and said into his mind, "Thank you for your interest, but I have someone else." Then she turned and walked away, her hair swinging behind her, leaving Harry surrounded by the most heavenly scent he would ever encounter in his lifetime. He knew, every other girl (and boy) in his future would pale in comparison. His capacity to love was useless in his fight against Voldemort if Renesmee would never love him back.

His musing stopped as a thought occurred to him. If he found out later that Hermione had gotten to her first, he was going to have to kill her. After all, he was Harry fucking Potter. He could easily find someone else to do his homework for him.  


* * *

  
It was worse than Edward had thought. Every student they passed as the entered the Great Hall was thinking thoughts about his daughter he was pretty sure were frowned upon by most polite society. He didn't even know how children their age knew of such things, especially that maneuver with the fist that pointy-faced blonde was so focused on. Several of the children turned to observe him and Bella as they walked further into the school; that was how Professor McGonagall and Renesmee eventually realized the Cullens had entered the building. Everyone on the ground floor had come to a standstill, watching the beautiful couple in silent awe as they looked around the school.

Seeing her father from the top of the staircase, Renesmee ran down and put her arms around him. Edward waited to see if she attempted to sink her teeth into his throat. When that didn't happen, he returned her hug. He nearly sighed in relief. She didn't appear to know what had happened. Edward supposed it was a good thing he couldn't keep Jacob's scent on him or the betrayal would've been exposed.

"Care to tell me what's been going on?" Edward pulled out of the hug and looked into his daughter's eyes.

"I believe I can help with that explanation," Professor McGonagall said as she joined them. Bella growled at her and she took a short step backwards. Edward put a restraining arm in front of his wife. The Transfiguration professor continued. "This school has, quite frankly, descended into chaos."

"That was the emergency you wrote to us about?" Bella asked.

"I don't know what to do," McGonagall said. "Your daughter is a wonderful student, but when it comes to the other students...and several of the professors, her presence has been quite disruptive. Someone even cut off his hand in a misguided effort to impress her."

Edward turned to Renesmee. "Have you...taken over your school?" Edward asked. He smiled when his daughter giggled instead of responding. Then he remembered an authority figure was watching and straightened his expression. "You _are_ just like your mother. Still, you really should stop. These children need their education—and their limbs."

"But, it's so easy, father!" Renesmee giggled again and there was a collective sigh in the hall. "Much easier than all those vampires."

"Vampires?" Ron called out. Pushing past a wall of students, he ran down the hall to them. He reached out to Renesmee with one trembling hand, stopping just short of actually touching her. He didn't want another accident like the last time he'd touched her. The house-elves still hadn't gotten those stains out of his pants. "You haven't dared put yourself in danger of those creatures? A delicate flower like you?"

She smiled, her sharp little teeth gleaming in the torch light. "My parents are vampires. At least, they both are now."

Ron gasped. "Which makes you..."

Renesmee touched a hand to his face. "Which makes me half-vampire, sweetheart," she said.

"Sweetheart..." Ron echoed in a faint voice as her hand left his face. He knew he would never forget this moment. In fact, the first time Hermione called him the same, he would get the urge to slap her. He would, of course, restrain himself from doing so, but just barely.

Before Ron could do anything else, Harry pulled out his wand and knocked him out. Another competitor out of the way.

Renesmee smiled and shook her head at him. Edward merely stared in confusion. He was going to have to talk to his daughter about this in-depth. This situation had to get under control. Especially with the things that Harry kid was thinking. Edward hadn't even known a broom could be used that way.


	9. Friend With Benefits

"I know what's going on, father," Renesmee said the minute they were alone.

Edward immediately took a step back. He was afraid of his daughter. Not because she was stronger than him, but because he actually cared what she thought. She could hurt him in a way Bella couldn't. Not anymore. His feelings had been muted after years of being inhuman, but there was still something there. Vanity. An understandably large ego. And somewhere, deep inside, the need to be loved by his impossibly perfect offspring. He could no more give Renesmee a reason to reject him than go back to feeding on humans. In spite of what Jacob did to him in bed, his ego couldn't take it.

Renesmee placed a hand on his wrist and Edward tried not to jump out of his skin.

"You're unhappy," she said.

He didn't know how she could tell. He'd perfected his brooding face long before she was a possibility.

"Mother smiled when she saw me, but you seem...distraught about something. More than being asked to come to the school." Edward looked across the empty classroom to avoid her gaze. "You've been fighting with Jacob again, haven't you?"

Edward shoved his hands into his pockets, suddenly thankful his daughter would never have the unfortunate chance to accidentally look at the front of his pants. He'd be hard-pressed to explain what she saw. Just the sound of Jacob's name brought to mind what they'd been up to the night before. If it was possible for Edward to bruise, he would've developed a permanent limp from Jacob's attentions. He might still. As it was, he had to repress the urge to beg his daughter to cut off all ties with the shapeshifter. It was bad enough they were involved. He couldn't break Renesmee's heart like that.

"There are some things going on," Edward stated quietly. "I don't want you to worry about it."

"But I do," Renesmee said. "I love you both and I don't want you to fight."

_But then we could have make up sex_, Edward thought. _Hot, sweaty, violent—_ He shook his head as if to clear it. "You don't have to worry about us fighting," Edward said. "Those days are behind us." He finally became brave enough to look his daughter in the eye. "Really. We've learned to resolve our differences in the past few weeks. You'll see that firsthand when you come to visit."

Renesmee nodded. Edward's stomach unclenched. There was still nothing to be done about his tight pants.

"Promise me you'll let me know if there's anything I can do."

Edward placed a hand on his daughter's shoulder. "You can focus on school and try to minimize everyone's obsession with you." _And break up with Jacob_, he thought, suddenly wishing he could hypnotize his child. A measure of guilt assailed him as the thought passed. He walked away, knowing deep down this was the last time he would be able to talk to his daughter without her knowing the truth.  


* * *

  
More than an hour passed after dinner before Hermione became aware that Renesmee had returned to Gryffindor Tower. There was a collective sigh from downstairs, noticable as far away as the sixth year girls' dorm. It didn't hurt that even the portraits had taken to giggling when they knew she was coming. Hermione closed the copy of _Advanced Potion Making_ on her bed and sat up, prepared for the onslaught of worshippers who would inevitably follow her roommate to their shared room and make it impossible for her to study. When Renesmee entered the room alone, the startled seventeen-year-old blurted, "Where is everyone?"

Renesmee smiled and glanced over shoulder briefly before closing the door. "Downstairs still, getting an early start on their sleep for the night." She motioned to her left sleeve where Hermione knew she kept her wand. "Thanks for demonstrating that Stupefy spell in class earlier. Learning that has done me a world of good."

"No prob...it was...s-sure," Hermione finally stuttered out. There was something odd about the way Renesmee was smiling at her. It didn't make her uncomfortable, exactly. Just tingly and a bit warm and, quite possibly, a little wet. But none of it was unpleasant. Far from it.

"I like being around you too," she said.

"I never said—" Hermione stopped, frowning. There was no point in denying the truth of it. She'd become helpless in the face of her own growing fixation. She just didn't know how Renesmee knew. "I mean, it's not that I don't like you, but—are you psychic?" That was not how she'd meant to end that, not at all, but the question had come out just the same.

"No, but my father reads minds." She shrugged. "I get the impression he sometimes reads body language. I got that gift from him." Renesmee paused. "I suppose he doesn't realize that."

She smiled again and Hermione felt a little dizzy. She was suddenly glad she was still on her bed.

"You may have heard a rumor about me today. That I'm half-vampire." Renesmee's smile widened; her sharp teeth gleamed in the light. "It doesn't make me dangerous. And, unlike my parents, I can't really hypnotize anyone, so I don't want you to feel like I'm influencing you against your will."

_Against all reason_, Hermione thought. She nodded and stood from the bed. "There's something about you," Hermione said, taking a few steps. "You're a mystery. That's why I..." She blushed and let her sentence end there. She couldn't say it anyway. Not with Renesmee looking at her as if she might feel the same.

"I shouldn't be doing this," Renesmee said after a long moment of silence. "I have someone, you know. He's waiting for me." She looked down at her hands. "But this isn't really cheating. He and I are friends right now. We could always remain as friends, but he'll love me any way I want him to." She looked up again. Her eyes had turned a startling coal black. Hermione found the change arousing. Frightening, but sexy. "But I can have whatever, whomever I want until I'm ready to make that decision."

"You can," Hermione whispered, providing her permission, her willingness, abandoning even the slightest urge to say no. In a flash, Renesmee had bridged the space between them. Her arms went around the other girl as Hermione stumbled back a step. "Could we..."

"I can do things to you you've probably never imagined could be done with a wand," Renesmee said, interrupting. "But I don't want to cause trouble with you and your friends. Harry—"

"Harry can stuff it," Hermione said as she leaned closer. Her lips brushed Renesmee's tentatively. Instantly, her nipples stiffened and her knees weakened. She inhaled deeply. Even her _breath_ was sweet.

"Speaking of stuffing," Renesmee reached into her pocket and pulled out a giant cucumber she'd stolen from the Hogwarts kitchens. "I've got a little game I want to play."  


* * *

  
When the rest of Gryffindor woke later that evening, several things were immediately apparent. Several of them had little to no bladder control when in a deep sleep. When several of the boys woke before the girls, they had no problem relieving their female classmates of their school robes and clothes. Lastly, everyone had an overwhelming craving for the taste of cucumbers. Only Renesmee Cullen was able to satisfy hers. 


	10. Coming Together

"How could you do this to me?" the slurring voice cried. There was a sound of sniffling. "I gave you everything. I made you famous. I talked you up to the press." The voice dropped to a whisper. "I gave you my man-cherry." There was a loud sob and then a sharp thwacking sound, as of flesh hitting flesh. Another person cried out in surprise. "I hope you're happy with that preening bitch. He could never love you the way I have."

The reporter stopped the tape and looked up at RPattz for a response. He frowned before covering the expression with his famous toothy grin. "I don't know what that is," he said, preempting the reporter's question.

The reporter smiled. "Our sources say that was a confrontation between yourself and former costar Radcliffe Daniels. It's been speculated that the two of you were once a hot and heavy couple before your relationship with TLaut developed."

RPattz looked around, wondering how many other reporters at the movie premiere were going to ask him about his ex. That was fine, as long as TLaut didn't suspect they might still be sleeping together. "It's awful how rumors begin, isn't it?" RPattz responded finally. He smiled, waving at someone in the distance. "I suppose it comes with being famous." He looked around again.

The reporter giggled. Apparently the makeup covering the handprint on RPattz's face wasn't as thick as he wanted to believe. "Whatever you say." Turning to the camera, she said, "For Out dot com, I'm Robin Andrews."

Just as the video feed was ending, someone tapped Renesmee on the shoulder and she jumped, almost dropping her laptop in the process.

Hermione blinked and took a step back. "I'm s-sorry," she stammered. "I didn't know what you were doing and I thought you might have been in a trance."

"I was," Renesmee responded. "Sort of." She gestured to her laptop. "I found a spell that allows me to see some things on the internet. I was watching a video on a website. It was in reference to a story I've been following in the papers."

Hermione nodded though she had very little idea what the other girl was talking about. She had very little handle on anything going on these days. After her late-night adventure with Renesmee, the two had barely spoken. It was awkward to look her in the eyes to say the least, especially since the students and professors kept requesting the Hogwarts kitchens to cook them recipes that prominently featured cucumbers. It had taken three days for everyone to cravings out of their systems (Hermione now truly detested all forms of cold soup), time during which Hermione had begun having second, third and fourth thoughts.

"I think we should talk," Hermione began.

Renesmee smiled. "Is talking really what you want to do?"

Hermione blushed and looked down at her hands. "I um..."

The other girl giggled. "You don't have to be nervous around me," Renesmee said. "If you want the other night to be just a one time thing, I understand." Her eyes took on a mischievous gleam. "I think it would be a waste, but I'll get over it." She put her computer down on her bed and began crossing the room, stopping until she stood just in front of Hermione. "That's not what you want, is it?" She smiled. A shiver went down Hermione's back. "Of course it isn't. But you don't want to ask for what you want, do you?" Renesmee pulled the other witch into her arms. Hermione relented with a sigh. "It's all right," she whispered. "You don't have to."  


* * *

  
Edward had a craving. One that couldn't be satiated by his wife. Or, rather, because of her. Since her return, the tension he'd felt before had increased tenfold and Bella was no closer to returning to the innocent, loving girl he'd fallen for years ago. She was spending even more time with Jacob. Not that Edward could blame her. The shapeshifter seemed to have a calming effect on her—her temper tantrums had become few and far between. Unfortunately, he was having the opposite effect on Edward. The more he saw them together, the more he felt himself consumed with jealousy—a far different kind than he was feeling weeks before.

This was a major problem. Jacob. Or rather, what he was doing. Sure, he hadn't let on to Bella that anything unusual had happened, but he hadn't stopped teasing Edward. Hugging Bella for extra long periods while he smiled at Edward, especially when he was shirtless. Images passing through Jacob's thoughts teased him—the two of them doing something wicked while hanging from a swing together, Jacob catching Edward while he was in his wolf form and then playing with his prey, a bizarre fantasy involving the pair, tight black pants with no seat and something called the Great American Challenge—it was all becoming too much. Edward was like a junkie who'd been denied his fix for far too long. Add to that he'd hardly fed in weeks and it was a wonder he hadn't snapped from all the tension in the house that apparently only he could feel. But that would be a far too easy way to be rid of the burden of a wife. Nothing in his life had gone simply. This situation wasn't going to be any different.  


* * *

  
Harry Potter had a problem. She was still ignoring him. He'd tried everything—expensive jewelry, a dancing, singing telegram, hexing the others who liked her into saying or doing something stupid in her presence—but Renesmee Cullen was still indifferent when it came to him. _Him._ Harry fucking Potter. He was starting to wonder if that name meant anything anymore. Renesmee had even taken most of his scar groupies. Not that Harry needed them to know how important he was in the grand scheme of things, but it was nice to be worshipped. And it was frustrating that Renesmee refused to fall under his oh-so-seductive spell.

Why was she fighting it? She'd smiled at him before so Harry knew she wasn't immune to his charms. He'd known she was getting closer to succumbing even as she rejected him. Was she playing hard to get? If so, she was playing that game with everyone. Even the ones who'd done violence on her behalf. Harry wished he knew what she wanted. Because obviously, the usual methods of breaking down a witch's resistance were not going to work here. Besides, he was running out of ideas. If this kept up, he'd have to resort to professing actual feelings and that was...well, that was a sign of weakness and he couldn't show weakness. Not the Savior of the Wizarding World. Voldemort would tease him about it forever.

Harry sighed as the door to her classroom opened. Finally. He felt her presence just seconds before she glided out of the room, her long hair bouncing behind her. She glanced at him briefly and kept walking without so much as breaking stride. He almost fell over as her scent passed over him.

This had to stop. He refused to take no for an answer.

Before he could chase after her, Hermione cleared her throat, drawing his attention. She came out of the classroom, her heavy stack of books clutched to her chest. Was she wearing perfume? She smelled...different. Good. It was about time. Harry glanced past her. Their classmates were knocked out again; a number of them were snoring heavily.

"I think you should give up, Harry," Hermione said. She shifted the books in her arms. "Before you embarass yourself. Renesmee is not interested and chasing her would be...foolish," she finished, whispering as if this little confidence should only stay between them. Fat chance with them surrounded by suddenly chittering portraits.

"You're out of your mind," Harry said. He glanced back the way Renesmee had walked before turning back to Hermione. He was going to have her, no matter what anyone said. "I'm _me_." He stopped short of saying Harry fucking Potter. He really ought to just have his name legally changed to that. "Just because she lets you follow her around like a niffler after a few coins doesn't mean she won't come around one day."

"Jealousy is so ugly, Harry," Hermione said. The little smirk she affected made him want to hex her. "The only reason Renesmee likes me is because I don't treat her the way everyone else does. We have a...special kind of friendship." She blushed in a way that boys who didn't know her might find attractive then walked away.

He wanted to ruin her little gloating moment by telling her that Renesmee would never like her _that way_, but didn't. It would hurt her more to have Renesmee do it herself. Especially if Hermione was more deluded than Luna thinking they were friends. Harry would wait and tease her after. It might be worth it. If the rumors of her plotting against him with Dumbledore and Ginny were true, she deserved the pain that was coming her way. In the meantime, he needed a plan.  


* * *

  
Jacob pushed Edward against the wall. His teeth immediately went to the other man's neck. Aggressive, but not at all unpleasant. Edward tried not to moan; he didn't want Bella to overhear. "Where is she?" They both knew who he meant.

"Off hunting. She should be gone for a while," Jacob responded. He stopped what he was doing. Edward almost slid down the wall. "Why, did you...want her for something?"

Edward looked up then. Jacob was staring at him, his eyes dark. There was something there. Jealousy? The vampire was hopeful. After all, he was risking the love of his daughter and the mother of all temper tantrums from his emotional wife. He had changed his very nature for this relationship, to the point of almost howling right along with Jacob. It was nice to know it wasn't just amazing sex for the other man.

"I just want to make sure we don't get caught," Edward said finally. "I have to talk to her. Tell her we can't stay married." _Finally_. The shapeshifter's thought was practically shouted into Edward's head. Jacob smiled. He placed his mouth on Edward's neck again.

"You didn't happen to give her that list of animals we're not to hunt, did you?" Edward asked. He had to force himself to focus. Jacob was a _fantastic_ distraction. "The one from Professor McGonagall. I'm sure I left it around here somewhere."

Jacob growled from deep in his throat. A decidedly human growl. He didn't like that Edward was talking about someone else while he was busy trying to drive Edward crazy. "I'm sure she'll be fine," he said. "What trouble could she possibly get into draining a magical creature or two?"

Edward wasn't sure about Jacob's confidence, but he decided not to question it. Especially after he read Jacob's thoughts of his plans for their afternoon. He had more interesting things to think about. Like how he was going to keep his leg in that position while Jacob...got creative. It was going to be a nice afternoon.  


* * *

  
This was pointless. Harry closed the copy of _Twelve Fail-safe Ways to Charm Witches_ Fred and George had gotten him. First years had better techniques than that crappy instruction manual. He of all people shouldn't have to resort to such silliness as complimenting females. He'd give it back to the twins. Maybe they'd find someone who could actually find some use of it. In the meantime, Harry had to find a way to get Renesmee to notice him, really notice and actually think he wasn't just one in her throngs of admirers. Screw what Hermione had to say about it. She had to be wrong sometime, about something other than her hair products.

He looked around. The library was deserted. No surprise there. The only person who usually crammed for class at this late hour of the afternoon was Hermione. She was probably off somewhere licking his future conquest's shoes. Harry stood. Where would he find a good love spell or potion? Not one of those cheap ones the twins were selling, the kind their mother had used to trap...uh, seal her relationship with Arthur Weasley. Maybe the Restricted Section. That kind of information was probably forbidden to students.

As he began walking, something came to his attention. Odd sounds, muffled by the rows of books. He couldn't quite make out what it was, but it was coming from the back of the library. Harry abruptly changed direction, stopping short as he got a few rows away from the source.

Harry didn't think anyone would've recognized the strange sounds coming from the back of the library but himself; the moans were barely audible besides. Still, he'd know that shuddering screech anywhere. It was Hermione. He hadn't heard her make a sound like that since she'd spent time in the Weasley's broom shed the summer before fourth year—afterwards, he'd never heard someone complain about splinters in odd places so much in his life. But this was an odd time and place to hear that sound. He approached the back row of shelves, letting his eyes slowly adjust to the darkness. Harry peeked around the corner of the last shelf. Two figures moved in the darkness. One was leaning against the wall, surrounded by a cloud of dark hair—Hermione—the other had their back turned to Harry. This person was kneeling on the floor, clearly helping Hermione find more enjoyment than she'd ever found in a book.

Harry took a step back. Surprisingly, he found himself aroused by the sight. Hermione might be annoying most of the time, but the sight of her moaning in the back of the library wasn't completely unpleasant. That is, until she spoke.

"Oh, Nessie, just like that."

Harry's heart stopped. He clutched at his chest and then banged on it to get it started again. Slowly, it began thumping erratically. He wasn't hallucinating. He was sure of what she'd said. His certainty was solidified when the other girl giggled. Harry would recognize that beautiful sound anywhere.

Harry's thoughts were whirling. The two of them were... It was no wonder Hermione's scent had changed recently; Renesmee's scent had rubbed off. This was crazy. He didn't know whether to be jealous, angry or beg to be included. For now, he was content to watch. As Hermione's panting grew louder and the other girl created the most delicious wet sounds that Harry could barely hear, he found just watching difficult to accomplish. His pants grew tighter. As he watched Hermione toss her head back and grab a handful of Renesmee's hair, Harry doubled over, struggling to control his own moaning. _That was a stain_ he was going to have trouble getting out of his pants. No matter, Harry thought as he backed away from the erotic scene. It was worth it.


	11. Easy Out

Edward finishing vomiting and wiped the blood from the back of his mouth. He stood and flushed the toilet. That Harry kid's thoughts were broadcasting too far away from the castle. He wasn't proud of what his daughter had been up to, but at least he now knew she wouldn't be too brokenhearted when she heard about his relationship with Jacob. Well, unless she was as greedy as her mother. Speaking of which...

Bella had been hunting for two days. Enough time for that Harry kid to watch his daughter and her girlfriend in the library three times and broadcast his thoughts loud enough for Edward to be nauseated by the power of them. It wasn't like her to disappear for so long, but Jacob had said not to worry. She hadn't fed in so long; she was probably exploring the far reaches of the forest to sustain herself for a while. Edward accepted that. After all, it gave Jacob time to explore _his_ farthest reaches.  


* * *

  
Hermione slammed the book closed and tossed it onto the bed in frustation. "There isn't one spell I can find that can help you. I thought there'd be an equivalent to the Muggle Repelling Charm, but I don't know how you're going to stop everyone from being obsessed with you."

Renesmee smiled. "Maybe I should tell them details about us."

"No, I..." Hermione blushed. "Not that I'm not happy, but I don't think that would be wise." _They'd kill me to get to you_, she thought. _Worse. They'd cut out my tongue and eat it so they could find out what you taste like. Mm. Honey and apples._ Hermione shook off the distracting thought. "I just want to get through the school year without starting a full-scale riot." She smiled. "I'm sure we'll get in trouble for repeatedly hexing our classmates."

Renesmee thought of the way the Headmaster had smiled at her over breakfast. And that interesting gesture the Deputy Headmistress had done with her fingers formed into a 'V' and her tongue. Not to mention the colorful comments written all over her tests from several classes in lieu of grades. "I don't think that will be a problem," she said. "But we'll find a permanent solution." _Even if it means hexing the professors as well_, she thought. "I have something for you."

"Oh." Hermione blushed. "I didn't realize we were at the stage of giving each other things." She paused and her face turned a deeper shade of red. "Other than the obvious."

"Well, this is something you can show in front of other people," Renesmee stated. She reached into her trunk and pulled out a wrapped box. "It took a while for me to find one, but I got it express delivered this morning." She unwrapped the package and pulled out a t-shirt.

It was a thin, low-cut white number with skinny straps and glittery writing on the front. Something very unlike anything Hermione would've picked out for herself. Which was precisely the point. Hermione pulled off her uniform shirt and put on Renesmee's gift. At her direction, Hermione also took off her bra.

"Perfect." Renesmee smiled.

"Is it?" Hermione looked down at the t-shirt her girlfriend had given her. She didn't understand the word on the front of it. Must be an American thing.

"Is something wrong?" Renesmee asked.

Hermione shook her head, but her mouth remained pulled down in a small frown. "No, it's lovely, but...what's a L.U.G.?"

Renesmee smiled. "It means uh...lovely under grace," she said, deciding the truth would only upset Hermione. Just because she knew the true, brief nature of their relationship didn't mean she had to ruin it for the other girl who thought she would feel this way forever.

Hermione nodded. The phrase made no sense, but she would wear it for Renesmee anyway. It would be rude to reject her gift. Besides, it made her breasts look a lot bigger. That could only be a good thing. Especially with the look her girlfriend was now giving her. This was a very good thing.  


* * *

  
Harry was tired of being jerked around. It was bad enough that Renesmee wouldn't put him out of his misery, Hermione was getting downright cocky about her triumph. Though watching them had provided enough fantasy material to last him at least two years, he was done playing the voyeur hiding in the shadows with a belt around his neck and a gerbil in his pants. He had to do something drastic. He was going kill Hermione. Unfortunately, he'd be the first suspect. Not too bad considering he'd gotten away with using Cedric Diggory as a human shield with some sob story about Voldemort killing him because he wasn't supposed to tag along. The truth was, it was easier to use him as a shield because Harry's dueling skills weren't quite up to par. It wasn't his fault the boy couldn't deflect a killing curse.

He had to find Hermione's weakness. Other than an obvious book fetish and that funny little feather thing he'd seen Renesmee do that he'd have to try with her sometime. Why couldn't they be like other girls and fall weak at the sight of his scar and huge bank vault? Things would be so much easier that way. He could start a harem, with those two at the center, and no one would ever question his power again. Voldemort would be so intimidated by the hordes of horny women at his control, he'd call off that battle-to-the-death thing and run off with Dumbledore. They could try dominating each other instead of running his life from the sidelines. That'd be two problems away from his ass...uh, off his back.

He just needed a fucking plan. It was just his bad luck that he couldn't use Hermione to come up with one for him this time.  


* * *

  
Hermione was sitting at Renesmee's private table going over the private menu selection the house-elves had submitted when Ginny approached. A dramatic change had taken over the girl. She had dyed her hair; her once bright red locks were now a stark black. Her clothes appeared to have shrunk several sizes. Her shirt was partially unbuttoned to reveal the tops of her breasts, not that one wouldn't notice them through the shirt that could've been painted on, especially since she'd given up on wearing a bra. Ginny's skirt was short enough that anyone who was curious could easily find out her natural hair color. Unfortunately, it also revealed a smell of which the Weasley girl probably wasn't aware; someone would alert her to that in due time. Hopefully. It was nearly strong enough to straighten Hermione's hair. She'd even decorated her face and arms with that hateful body glitter. It was sad, really.

Hermione sighed. At least Ginny was finally dressing for her role at the school. She handed the approved menu back to the house-elf and folded her hands together on the table. "Yes?"

"Where is she?" Ginny asked. "I want to settle this."

Hermione sighed again. It wasn't enough that everyone begged her to share her prize, now she had to contend with Harry thinking this was some sort of competition and various school floozies wishing to challenge Renesmee's popularity. A losing battle on both points. She could try to explain this to Ginny as she had to Luna, Katie, Romilda, Draco, Natalie, Daphne, Orla, Astoria, and half the Hufflepuff Gobstones Club, but the girl wasn't nearly as bright as half those people. Hermione had used simple language to get them to catch on; they'd only just done that. There was only one way she could handle this. As much as she hated using the formidable disarming tool, she had to do it.

Hermione held her fingers under Ginny's nose. Not long enough to cause permanent brain damage from the instant rush to her senses, but enough to cause an instant look of euphoria to cross her features and make her knees tremble. Hermione pulled her hand away just as Ginny was opening her mouth to lick at the appendage.

"I'm sorry for what you can't have," Hermione said. Namely, the source of the delightful smell on her fingers, among other things. She looked pointedly at Ginny's outfit. "Or who you can't be, no matter how many hours you spend on your knees in a broom cupboard. With Renesmee here, you've probably reached the limit of your popularity." Hermione shrugged. "You have no choice but to get over it. At least you'll be able to pick up Harry now since both of you are unwanted."

Rather than give one of her usual nasty retorts, Ginny burst into tears, running through the front doors of the Great Hall just as Renesmee entered from the private antechamber at the back.

"Did I miss something?" she asked as she sat down.

Hermione shook her head. "Nothing worth bothering yourself over." She glanced around the Great Hall. All eyes were turned to them as usual. Hermione didn't mind. It gave her a chance to show off. "We've got a few minutes before lunch is served," she began. "What do you say to putting on a little show?"

Renesmeee smiled and leaned closer for a kiss. Both ignored the collective sighs that sounded around the room as they touched.  


* * *

  
Harry glared from the other side of the room. Normally, it was arousing to watch them, but he felt that sort of enjoyment was a private thing. Besides, this was just a reminder of what he couldn't have. That, and Ron was rubbing his leg in a way he didn't find at all acceptable from his best friend. If he was horny, he'd have to do like everyone else and take it up with... well, never mind. Ron wouldn't go there with his sister. Probably not. Unless he was really desperate. Speaking of which...

"I'm going to get her," Harry said. It took him a few seconds to realize he'd spoken out loud. He was alerted to the fact by the loud laughter of the boys sitting nearest to him. "Don't laugh at me," he said loudly, drawing more than a few pairs of eyes in his direction. "I'm—"

"Harry _fucking_ Potter," Neville filled in for him. "We've heard it plenty of times, mate. Doesn't mean you'll get anywhere with her."

_Stupid fat fuck_, Harry thought. His scar began to burn. Good. Then he wouldn't be blamed for getting rid of a few of his classmates. Voldemort was good for something at least.

"I'll have you know that I am quite close to getting her to dump Hermione in favor of someone with better equipment."

Seamus leaned across the table. "I don't know, Harry. From what I can see, she doesn't seem to have a problem with Hermione's equipment. Who knew that underneath the hideous clothes and behind that stack of books was somebody worth jerking off to?"

All eyes turned to Ron. He shrugged. He was probably the only person who didn't know Hermione had been throwing herself at him for two years. Yes, it had been in her own sad little bookworm way, but Harry thought his best mate might've caught on when she invited herself into his bedroom repeatedly over the summer and offered to help him practice spellwork before school started back. That was Hermione's version of flirting. Someone ought to teach the smartest witch of their generation how to give a handjob.

"Still, I have a chance with her. As soon as she sees that sliding down this pole is much more fun than lapping up stale juice from—"

Draco sneered. "Give it up, Potter. You haven't got a chance with her." The other boys nodded in agreement. "The closest you could ever get to the inside of her pants is stealing them from the house-elf who washes them and that isn't possible."

_That explains his broken arm_, Harry thought.

"At least my face isn't pointy," he said. "And my father isn't someone's girlfriend in jail. And I didn't lose my virginity to Crabbe after the Yule Ball." He didn't turn, but smiled when he heard Draco burst into tears and run from the room. He really had to remember to put that bitch in his place more often. As for the rest of them, they would see. He was going to steal Renesmee from Hermione. Right after he made a quick trip to the loo. What was that lubrication spell again?  


* * *

  
Bella ran through the forest, feeling as if the light of a thousand suns was shining down on her cold skin. If she'd known unicorn blood would be so delicious, she might have suggested they move to someplace she could reach the delicious treat long before now. As it was, she'd gone through half a dozen of them and felt better than she'd ever felt in her human life. The exhilaration was greater than anything she'd ever experienced. Better than waking up as a vampire for the first time. Becoming a mother. Sex. Given who she'd slept with, that admission should have come as no surprise to her, but it was still a revelation. That whole true love, soulmate thing was supposed to make everything between them better, but all it did was make her as broody as Edward. She'd wanted to share his life and feelings, but not the sucky parts. This, at least, was a way to break the marriage monotony. Maybe she would tell Edward how to hunt down a unicorn so he could have some of their enchanted blood himself. Something had to loosen him up.

A faint sound caught her attention and Bella slowed. A stench filled the air, alerting her to where the sound was coming from. It was a girl crying. When the wind shifted and made it bareable, she moved closer, eventually coming upon a barely dressed girl with dark hair.

"What's wrong?" Bella asked. Not that she cared, but the sooner this pathetic, smelly creature was out of the forest, the sooner she'd be able to get back to the hunt.

"I..." Ginny sniffed and wiped her nose on the back of her arm. "It's Renesmee. This girl at my school."

Bella's eyes widened at the mention of her daughter. "What—?"

"That hateful bitch has stolen everything from me!" Ginny shouted. She sniffled again, not noticing when Bella began growling low in her throat. "First she stole my popularity, now my soulmate is obsessed with her and my best friend—when I'm not making fun of her—is on her side too. I want everything back to the way it was. I think the only way to make that happen is send that hateful skank back to America or kill her. Yeah. I should kill her. Because that's the only way—" Ginny's last words were lost as the angry mother sank her fangs into the girl's throat. Ginny had just enough time to send a frantic series of red sparks into the air before she passed out.  


* * *

  
This was getting ugly. Harry hadn't thought it would be so bad, but he'd spent so much time in the bathroom thinking about Renesmee and Hermione, he'd missed lunch. Plus, he was starting to chafe and his arm was tired. That was going to make Quidditch practice loads of fun. As he passed a window on his way to class, he noticed a shower of red sparks going up from the forest. Great, now he had to play hero again and rescue some poor idiot who'd probably got caught alone with a giant spider or something. At least it would give him a chance to skip class for a legitimate reason.

Whose office was closest? McGonagall. Perfect. She'd be good for a few house points and probably a medal for service to the school if he played it just right. Couldn't let Voldemort outshine him on that score too.

Harry ran to her office and knocked briefly before throwing the door open in dramatic fashion. "Professor, you have to come quick! Someone's in trouble in the forest and—"

Harry stopped, his brain momentarily going numb. There, in the middle of her office, was Professor McGonagall. Spread eagle on her desk. Wearing nothing but spiked black heels and handcuffs. With Snape standing in front of her. Shirtless. In tight leather trousers. And holding a paddle the length of Harry's arm. Snape's arm stopped in mid-motion and he turned, giving Harry an alarming view of the front of his leather ensemble. Apparently, his nose wasn't the only thing disproportionate to his body. No wonder Dumbledore kept him around in spite of his attitude.

Harry screamed and backed away, slamming the door behind him. After a few seconds, he paused. Had he really seen...? He opened the door again. "Is that...a nipple ring?"

Professor McGonagall blushed and turned away from the door, struggling to pull her arms up to cover her chest.

Harry closed it again. So much for assuming everything on a woman her age had to sag. Then he remembered. Forest. Student in danger. Blah blah blah. He called through the door, "Um, when you're done, someone may be dead or dying in the forest. I'll just go check it out and meet you there." He paused. "Please change clothes before you come." _Or after. Whichever._ He grabbed his wand and headed for the closest exit.  


* * *

  
Edward pulled against the shackles on his wrist. He was hung so high on the wall, he had to stand on his toes. But he wouldn't have it any other way. Jacob swatted him with one meaty palm before leaning close to his ear and asking the question again. "Who's my bitch?"

"I am," Edward whimpered. Another slap on the ass. "I am," he said louder, trying to hide his smile.

"Are you...laughing?" Jacob asked. He slapped Edward again, much harder than before. Edward's head snapped forward and he pulled against his bonds.

"No master," he whispered. "I would never laugh at someone so powerful. I was just giddy at the thought of you..."

"What?" Jacob demanded. He slapped the vampire on the ass again for good measure.

"The thought of you showing me what a bad, bad monster I am." Edward sighed at the thought. A shiver went up his leg. "Just fuck me, Jacob. Fuck me like the little bitch I am when I'm with you."

"It's no wonder Professor McGonagall is fond of you."

They both turned to see Professor Dumbledore standing in the doorway of the cottage, his robes showing a rather frightening bulge.

"Forgive me for interrupting what promises to be an interesting afternoon," he said, stepping further into the room, "but there is an emergency at Hogwarts that requires your immediate attention. As something else requires mine," Dumbledore said, looking down. He frowned before returning his attention to the matter at hand. "It involves your wife, Mr. Cullen."

"Is something wrong?" Edward asked. _Please_, he thought, suddenly wishing he belonged to some sort of religion for soulless monsters so he had someone to beg for this favor.

Dumbledore nodded, looking sorry in spite of some of his thoughts obviously being elsewhere. "It is quite serious. But it can wait a few minutes while you," he motioned to the two of them, "get yourself together. If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to use your bathroom." Dumbledore smiled. "I have a...knitting magazine I'd like to read through," he said, pulling out a euphemism he usually only employed for a student's benefit. Not that he needed to hide anything from the two before him. He could probably get them to help with the relief effort if he phrased the question just so.

"Take your time," Edward said. After all, he was in no hurry to help Bella out of whatever trouble she'd gotten herself into. Whatever it was, it was a well-timed blessing.  


* * *

  
It had taken quite a few spells to restrain her, but Snape and McGonagall finally got the enraged vampire under control. The Weasley girl was still alive—which would be a disappointment to several in her year when they found out—and had been transported to St. Mungo's for immediate blood transfusions. Meanwhile, Bella had been taken to the Headmaster's office to await the arrival of her husband and the Minister for Magic, who had insisted on dealing with the situation in person when he'd been alerted. After all, attacks on students by inhuman monsters always attracted Ministry involvement.

For her part, Renesmee was more than a little shaken by the violent attack, though she managed to hide her sadness that a fellow student had nearly died at her mother's hands. She had helped in the effort to calm Bella and now stood on the far side of the room, waiting to hear what Professor McGonagall would say by way of explanation to the vampires unfamiliar with the way the Ministry governed such unfortunate circumstances.

"This is quite serious," McGonagall began.

"No shit," Snape muttered. Minerva shot him a dirty look, one she'd no doubt pay for later. She was counting on that.

"I'm sorry I attacked that girl," Bella said. "I'll do anything I can to make up for it. I'll apologize to her and her parents. I'll do community service." She swallowed hard. "I really didn't mean it. I never attack humans, but she was so rude..." Bella trailed off, her eyes drifting to her daughter.

"Oh, no one cares that you nibbled on her," McGonagall said, waving her hand dismissively. She glanced at Renesmee. "Popular opinion has gone against Miss Weasley of late. We'll just erase her memory and move on. However, there is the matter of the unicorns." The Deputy Headmistress frowned. "I'm afraid you'll have to pay for that."


	12. The Natural Course of Things

Bella's trial was the morning after the attack and a quick formality. The sentence: death. Or double death, considering that vampires aren't really alive. Which was why, after the sentence was passed down and the Dementors were summoned to perform the duty, there appeared a snafu in carrying out the sentence.

Edward, Jacob and Renesmee had just completed their tearful goodbyes—Edward had done an Oscar-worthy job of faking it—and Bella was tied down to a table in the Headmaster's office, awaiting her execution. Five eerie figures in flowing dark robes surrounded the table. A chill settled over the space, accompanied by a howling more terrifying than the idea of an idiot from Texas with access to nuclear codes. Without warning, the howling stopped. There were a few lingering sighs and then the Dementors drifted away from Bella. The vampire looked around the room, confused.

One of the Dementors motioned Professor McGonagall to the side and pulled off his Ghostface mask. "Yo, let me break this down for you."

McGonagall frowned. She hated dealing with the Dementors. They watched entirely too much American television.

"You got your classic vampires that can be killed traditional ways—sunlight, stake to the heart, that kind of normal thing. Then you got this odd little soulless, sparkly American pseudo-breed that can only be bitten into by werewolves—and shapeshifters, apparently—beheaded or torn apart, burned and buried. We can work with the vampires sired here," he said, motioning to the group of bored Dementors drifting around Bella in a semi-circle. "But this one? You're gonna have to break out a medieval torture device or call in a favor to a werewolf with a taste for sparkly dead meat. There's nothing we can do for you."

Before Minerva could move away and inform the intended victim of the circumstances, the Dementor stopped her with a small pat on the butt. She turned back, frowning. Only Severus was allowed to do that.

"We still expect our fee, for the trouble we went to coming out here and everything."

"Of course," Dumbledore said before McGonagall could respond. "I'll have the gold forwarded from the Potters vault before the end of the day."

"Fantastic," he responded. "See you for kitten poker tomorrow night." Waving to the other Dementors, they left through one of Dumbledore's office windows.

Professor McGonagall quickly explained the situation to Bella and the waiting audience.

"But...what happens now?" Renesmee asked. She looked around. No one had an answer for her.  


* * *

  
In the end, things were simple. Dumbledore got Filch on the case and he came up with the idea of tying Bella Cullen's limbs to Thestrals and sending them running in the cardinal directions. Not one to miss a rare draw and quartering, Edward was the only member of the family who attended this final solution. He managed to refrain from laughing during the disemboweling. But he lost it when her head flopped around on the ground like a fish out of water. And again when he was allowed to light a match to the remaining pieces. She was in a better place now. Or not, given who she'd been. Not that Edward cared. He would never admit to anyone—not even Jacob after quite a bit of enjoyable torture—that he'd sported a bit of wood listening to her scream as she died. Again.

After spitting on the smoldering ashes, Edward walked back to Hogwarts castle. He had to see his daughter. He found her in the courtyard with Jacob, a pout marring her otherwise impossibly perfect features. Really, marring wasn't quite what the pout was doing, given how attractive the girl was, but the look of melancholy reduced her to merely an extraordinary level of adolescent beauty. Still, she seemed sad. Edward found out why when he reached them.

"Father," she said as she looked up at him. "I've broken things off with Jacob."

"Oh." Edward matched his daughter's pout. He and Jacob were both free. Unfortunate timing, but there was the damn wood again. "I'm so sorry, Nessie. I know how much he means to you."

Renesmee nodded. "I think it's better if we're friends. Jacob agrees."

Edward turned to Jacob. He tried not to look hopeful. He couldn't give his daughter a hint of what was happening. "I suppose this means you'll be moving out of my house soon."

Jacob smiled. "I'll see you at home, honey. Don't keep me waiting too long." With that, he slapped Edward on the ass—nearly causing a messy accident—and walked away.

Edward turned back to his daughter, blushing for the first time since...ever. "I don't..."

Renesmee held up one hand. "It's all right, father. You've been obsessed with him since before you married mother." At the mention of Bella, her pout deepened slightly. "She and I both saw the signs. I should've let you have him a long time ago, if only to stop your whining. I recognized the complaints for what they were, extreme jealously." She shrugged. "What other way could you express yourself? You are only seventeen after all."

"I don't know what to say," Edward responded. His daughter had known what was in his mind better than he had. And Bella had known, long before their dull marriage. That selfish bitch. Another reason to not miss her. Edward made a mental note to ask one of the students to go back and piss on her ashes. Nothing less than she deserved.

"You don't have to say anything, father." Renesmee smiled. "Just be happy. And think about learning a little restraint. Every time you and Jacob are together, the noise scares the animals in the forest. The stampeding is causing issues here at the school."

He nodded. There was nothing left to do but hug his beautiful, unselfish daughter. Renesmee gasped and pulled out of his arms, a look of fright in her eyes. _Fuck._ He'd forgotten about his erection. Oh well. Nothing he could do about it now. He turned to walk back to the cottage. He had a Little Red Riding Hood costume to put on.  


* * *

  
Renesmee smiled at the group of girls. It was sweet of them to give her this tribute, she supposed. Truthfully, she didn't know what to think about anything after that last encounter with her father, but she thought the best reaction to her fanpires – groupies with fake teeth styled to look like hers – getting tattoos of her face on their stomachs and backs was flattery. Somehow, she thought showing the group of fifteen that she was mildly repulsed wouldn't go over well. Not that they'd do anything but be excited by her anger, but still. She had other things on her mind. Like getting back to Hermione and forgetting this entire day happened. Before she could thank them again and walk away, one of the girls stepped forward.

Hannah Abbott smiled at her. "We know this has been a particularly hard day for you," she began. "If you'd allow us, we think we've found something that might make you laugh. At least, it should help you relieve some of the understandable tension of today."

"I really shouldn't," Renesmee said. She waved her hand in the general direction of the Great Hall.

"Please," Hannah said.

Sighing, Renesmee allowed herself to be led to an empty classroom. There, tied up and gagged in the center of the room, were Draco Malfoy and Romilda Vane. An assortment of paddles, whips and sharp tools had been placed on a nearby table. A rusty chainsaw was on the floor.

"Draco volunteered for the privilege, but the other one said some unfortunate things about your parentage we thought you might want to address yourself." Hannah picked up a small mace and placed it in Renesmee's hand. "When you're done, Professor Dumbledore would like this one back. Something about a game tomorrow night. Have fun."

With that, her fan club left Renesmee alone with her distractions. There weren't very many pieces of either left afterward (she got a little carried away), but the young half-vampire was stress free. And that was all that mattered.  


* * *

  
This was going to work. He'd tried tripping her down the moving stairs, setting her on fire and even barring her library access for two days. It was no use. Harry still hadn't succeeded in killing Hermione. This was his final shot. He didn't know why he hadn't thought of it before. The trick was to keep it simple. First, he'd pretend to be over his obsession with Renesmee, then he'd strike when her defenses were down. A simple but powerful poison would do the trick. Then there would be nothing standing between him and the ultimate prize. He'd be there to comfort Renesmee through the grief of losing her mother and girlfriend in the same day—who could resist a weeping teenager who thought everyone she cared about was going to be ripped away violently?

He did the necessary after he found Hermione in the Great Hall, bragging to the Gryffindor girls who now hated her about "the best experience of anything, ever." She'd accepted his offered kiss on the cheek with a cool smile. Even Harry had to admit, offering the physical affection was a stroke of genius. It allowed him to spike her drink unseen. Ten minutes, and several large gulps later, Harry began to worry that he hadn't given her enough. He looked at his watch. It should've taken affect by now.

"Something wrong?" Hermione asked. Her questioning smile was sweet. It made him want to gag.

"Uh...no." _Fuck! She did something, didn't she?_ "I was just..."

"Oh, Harry." Hermione smiled and placed a hand on his cheek. "It was a good try, but I switched my drink with Lavender's just after you put in the poison." She motioned to the other girl who promptly fell under the table, dead. Chuckling under his breath, Colin Creevy grabbed the fallen body and dragged it out of the Great Hall. Knowing fascinating pictures would soon be circulating through the school's secret magazine, Hermione turned back to Harry with a smile. "I told you to give up," she said. "You should have listened."

"Argh!" Harry was so livid he couldn't speak. He couldn't even think of a decent hex. Him. Of all people. Harry fu—oh, what was the use? This whole thing was pointless.

"Harry, may I speak to you in private?" Renesmee approached, a small smile tilting her lips. She casually waved at Hermione to stay seated.

"Sure," he said slowly. There were bloodstains on her robes and hands. He didn't even want to ask. He put a hand up his left sleeve. Good. His wand was still there. At least if she tried to get revenge for everything he'd done to her girlfriend, he would be able to defend himself.

Renesmee led him to an empty classroom.

He screamed, turning to her as she closed the door behind them. "What happened in here?" Harry gestured to the blood and body parts strewn about.

She laughed softly. "She received a fitting tribute to her greatness," Renesmee said softly, going back to the third person speech she'd abandoned weeks ago. She really ought to try it more often. It was fun. So was the look of horror on Harry Potter's face. She figured the sight of what she'd spent the afternoon doing would get his attention.

"What did you do?" he asked slowly. He screamed and peed his pants a little when a piece of scalp with a lock of platinum blonde hair attached to it fell from the ceiling and landed on the toe of his shoe. He kicked it off and cleaned his shoe quickly with a flick of his wand and a whispered spell.

"I took care of my most dangerous obsessed fan and biggest hater in one session." She smiled. "Saving time and all that. Now I just have to deal with you."

"Are you..." He took a step back. "Are you going to kill me too?"

She shook her head. "Hermione likes you too much and besides, I find you amusing." Renesmee let her voice drop to a whisper. "And I've heard a rumor that you, Harry fucking Potter, are quite well endowed."

He smiled. Ginny's big mouth was good for two things. "So you're interested in my...endowment?" he asked hopefully.

"No." She sighed. "But if it'll get you and Hermione to coexist in peace and if you'll accept that we'll never really be together, I'm willing to put that aside for a brief time. I just don't understand why you can't let it go. I think it's the idea of me you like, not the real me. You've never even gotten to know the real me."

Harry sighed. Girls and their...words and feelings and crap. Why did they have to make things complicated? He just wanted to _win_. "You're an original character. And American. That's all I need to know. I don't think it's possible for us to exist in the same space without my loving you."

"Fine. Whatever." Renesmee pouted. "I'll make a deal with you. I feel sorry for what happened with my mother and I think someone in my family should try to make it up to the Weasley girl. Word is she's had her eye on you since she first heard of the term 'gold digger.' If you'll give into what Ginny wants I'll—" She leaned over to whisper in Harry's ear. He squealed in delight as she finished telling him what she had in store. "And only the once. Trust me, you can be happy with her. You just have to try."

"What if I don't want to try?" he asked. "She is rather annoying. And she's been passed around more than Hermione's class notes."

"I don't really think you have a choice," Renesmee stated. "Fate has stuck you with her. Why else would you keep saving her life?"

"Besides that she probably gets herself into these things for exactly that purpose?"

"Precisely," Renesmee agreed. "She's an attention whore willing to play victim to feed your saving-people thing so she can be known as the Boy Who Lived's girlfriend. You're circle-jerk soulmates. Better to face it now than have to fight her off for years to come and end up with her anyway."

Harry sighed in resignation. "I really wanted a harem."

She put a hand on his shoulder. "I know. The most you'll get is me and Hermione for one night. Hermione's incredibly flexible. At least that's something."

Harry nodded. He could always replay the memories. He smiled as an idea occurred to him. "While we're in the business of trading favors, could you do something for me? I've got an issue with this dark wizard. Killed my parents. He's after me now too. Right pain in the arse."

"I think I can help you out," Renesmee said. "When it comes to soul-sucking evil, I'm something of an expert."

"And maybe I can help you with your obssessed fan issue," he said, glancing around the bloody room again. "I'm an expert on those." He'd have to help or there'd be no one left to fight in the second war. Harry smiled when Renesmee nodded. He really hoped Hermione was as flexible as advertised. It would be a shame if this compromise wasn't at least worth anonymously selling the story to the _Prophet_ in a few years.  


* * *

  
When Harry went to the hospital to visit Ginny the next day, it was with a smile on his face and a mild limp. He was resigned to his fate. After all, she was his best friend's sister and from a poor family. If he didn't take pity on the desperate girl, who would? Besides, if she'd learned any of her mother's tricks...

Ginny sat up when Harry came into her room. She smiled and waved; he fought the urge to run back out again. He'd promised Renesmee he would go through with it. Besides the fact that he was a man of his word, he knew she'd hurt him if he went back on it. Plus, he thought he'd impressed her the night before. If he there was to be any chance of a round four—even with Hermione in attendance—he had better stick to the agreement and play nice with Ginny. Even if it did feel as if a ferocious beast was trying to eat its way out of his chest. Hardly the romantic sentiment he should feel around the girl he was going to be stuck with for the forseeable future.

"Oh, Harry," Ginny said. "You saved my life. Again."

_Yeah_, he thought. _I suppose I'm stuck with you. Stupid fate._ At least he knew she'd make a decent harem girl if he ever got one started. She had enough experience to train the others. And they could work on that smell issue. It couldn't possibly be permanent. Of course, with Snape's hair as an example—that thought brought to mind an image of what he'd witnessed in McGonagall's office. Harry fought back the bile in his throat and smiled down at Ginny. At least her mother had fixed that awful hair color. Someone as gorgeous as he deserved a hot redhead. Or the closest Weasley equivalent.

"You're welcome," Harry said. He shook his head slightly, hoping the light would catch his scar. From the way Ginny sighed as she gazed up at him, it had. _Oh well_, he thought. _At least I'll always have my most obsessed fan. Renesmee doesn't know what she's missing._

Besides, he had a pair of Renesmee's lacey knickers in his trunk. He'd get through at least three years of marriage with that. And he could always go back to Hermione. No one would never know. Even Ron thought they were like brother and sister. Harry smiled as he thought of how ridiculous that sounded. No one with sisterly feelings would ever bend over and ask for it like that. And who could blame her? After all, he was Harry fucking Potter.  


* * *

  
**Epilogue**

Edward and Jacob broke up after five years together. The shapeshifter got bored and decided to settle down into a steady job. He now plays the role of Prince Adam in a theme park by day and dances at private parties for Orlando Hardbodies by night. (He charges extra for happy endings and pup-play.) Edward took quite a different path. After experimenting with billions of dollars in overinflated assets in the American stock market under the names of seven different dummy corporations, he dyed his hair, created a fake background, changed his name to Adam and auditioned for an American singing competition. He still sparkles.

Harry, Hermione and Renesmee spent the rest of the school year getting along, with Harry acting as Renesmee's personal bodyguard. Harry felt it gave him extra practice for the coming fight. In payment, Nessie and Hermione let him watch, though he still preferred to pretend they didn't know he was in the library with them.

Renesmee eventually held up her end of the bargain as a parting gift before she left the country at the end of sixth year. With Professor Snape's help, she found Voldemort's location. Sneaking into the house was easy. She was so powerful by this point, none of the protective spells surrounding the mansion worked against her. The Death Eaters weren't a challenge either. One look at Renesmee and they fell at her feet, begging her to be their new mistress. She merely requested they lead her to Voldemort. They complied, leaving her in a bedroom with the pale monster who used to be Dumbledore's special friend.

"I've heard of you," he said as she walked in. "I thought reports of your beauty were exaggerated. I believe they pale in comparison to the real thing."

Renesmee shook her head. "Flattery will not change the natural course of things. I've come to do a job."

"Sounds promising," he said. A snap of his pale fingers and his robes disappeared.

The girl fought down her nausea. It was bad enough when Dumbledore offered himself to her during Christmas break, but this? Shriveled flobberworms were not for her. But his scary assumption would make fulfilling her promise to Harry that much easier. She approached what was left of the so-called Dark Lord, a smile on her face to cover her revulsion.

"What did you have in mind?" she asked.

Voldemort leaned forward, his thin, cracked lips puckered for a kiss. Renesmee leaned forward too, not exposing her sharp teeth until the last second. When she drank of him, it never occurred to him to pull away, even as he grew weaker when she drained him. He could feel the soul in his current form flailing about like a helpless baby, losing strength, but reveling in the attention of one who was so much more powerful and worthy of immortality than he. Finally, when she was done, she pulled away from him; silver-red drops of blood beaded on her lips like a perfect shade of lipstick. (In fact, a make up company would duplicate it years into the future and call it lip venom.) Before he passed out from weakness, she leaned close to the place where his ear would be and whispered, "One year from today, you _will_ die at the hands of Harry Potter." It was part hypnotic suggestion, part knowledge of what her mild vampire venom would do to him over the coming year. Renesmee released Voldemort and watched him fall to the ground.

He would later deny any such event had taken place and vow repeatedly to kill the boy who once helped destroy his body. But in the dark recesses of night, when the most evil of evil came out to play, Voldemort would remember this girl and know her words were not a threat, they were the most sweet of promises. The greatest he could ever experience after her was death at the hands of one she favored.  


* * *

  
"And that, kids, is the real story of how I eventually defeated Voldemort," Harry said. He looked out at his children, all well-versed in the stories of his time at Hogwarts since they'd all begun there. The versions they'd heard sounded a bit more herioc than the real thing—probably because they didn't include the hundreds of detentions. "But don't tell your mother," he continued in a whisper. "She still believes that rot about Horcruxes and wand lore—as if a disarming spell could really defeat a killing curse. She always was a bit simple. Of course, I didn't come up with that bit of brilliance. Your Aunt Hermione always was a smart witch, even if she wasn't quite the smartest I ever knew." 


End file.
